Love, like an an elegant weapon who’s beauty makes one forget the sharp edge it harbors, I wish to hold it. I fear to wield it. It whispers in my mind of tenderness and wounds my heart as I carry it.

Love, like an invisible dagger it has me bleeding. It’s a cold piece of steel between my ribs and I can’t remove it. I won’t remove it. A beautiful edge it has me weeping. A beautiful edge it keeps me dreaming.