While the nightterrors of your war cry play,
My actual heartbeat sounds the drums of your ominous approach,
No hope in surviving unscathed by the way I weaken when your kiss touches my face.
My addiction to following your whims defines my fate,
Could use a little faith,
Should move away with quickened haste.
So afraid of how deep you cut in taking whole halves of everything I won’t give.
In letting you near,
My own grave I dig,
Before sunrise we will witness you not only win… but too take a dig into my spirits.
Its like you have no joy in my deflation and death unless you too get to dip your bare hands into my blood.
Post traumatically scarred by the way you come and go untouched,
Offeringing promise and a place to voice my worries and wonders unabashed.
Still stunned on the ways your forms of chaos changed the landscape of mind.
So ashamed that I embraced the Pillaging with a smile thinking it could make me worthy of affection.
With open arms deemed it necessary and still to this hour believe it all to mean love.