Can you even fathom
Or begin to comprehend
The depth of your actions
And the words wove within?

You make me restless
And held the barrel to my temple
Made me scream out the reasons
That at the time sounded simple

And yet you chase me
With guise and indescretion
Your soft hands wielding needles
And we dance in arabesque when -

This incendiary epidemic
Courses through my every vein
Burning away my hope
Burning away my pain

My hero
Her hands so soft
And I can hardly breathe
As you hold me aloft.

----- Just, because while I was writing this (And I haven't written
anything in ages) I was given a stern look and asked questions of
concerning the piece: No, this is nothing personal. No, I'm not
suicidal. And I'd explain in further detail, but it really defeats the
purpose of writing it. -----

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Mayan, in the year 431 AF.