Thy Arms

within thines arms I long to be,
the wildness inside to be set free.
a moan from parted lips I beg thee pull,
sheathe thou sword, adjoin our souls.

I shake my head in wonder that thou hast chosen me,
somedays I have a bit of trouble believing it to be.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
or so it is said,
but If you don't see it yourself, the doubt may bring on dread.

in poetry words flow freely, unrestrained by boundaries and time,
and one may understand more through both prose and rhyme.

thy kiss is bittersweet, like the blade of a sharpened knife,
intoxicating in it's simplicity, creating a yearning to not go home at night.

jealousy is conspicuous no matter how hard one tries... and difficult to shut off when truly felt inside.

it's ugliness presents itself in the pettiest of ways, forging that...