|and a sword will pierce your own soul too|
As bloody and helpless as the first day.
The warmth of your mortality leaching away
Into the ungrateful earth.
I glean my treasure trove from all that remains.
The smell of skin, a childhood scar,
Earnest dark eyes
Of your cheek against my breast,
Arms around my neck,
hands entwined in hair.
Not this remnant of humanity
But my heart’s pride,