Weaknesses
A red explosion
Rides my mind
And as it leaves my veins
It gets to my eyes
And ears.
In me
Only the deep and loud desire
Of love
Remains.
Cannot hold my pulse,
My arms are weak
But I was once said to
That no poetry shall come
From strength
And only my weak wrist
Can write so properly
About such love
That makes me wonder
What should I wait
To see it as concrete as it feels.
When I lay weak
In such arms
I shall say
That love has made me
The weakest one
Because
No other place
Shall feel
As weak and vulnerable
As once did love.
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