If I Had The Words

If I had words that cut through tawdry sweetness and into the meat of myself

I would give them to you.

I would prise open the muscle and bone,

I would have those words flow like blood and wine.

If I could draw in flesh more clearly,

I would use the sharpest edges of your tongue.

A pound of flesh is a beggar's portion.

My two hands and these eyes would cripple and fail before I could write the story of
my love for you.

You always sit next to the quick of my being.

You soothe or chafe as it suits you.

You do not understand the measure of your power.

My children, you are my breath and bone.

You are my life and my death.

You are all of my reason and my passion.

If only I had the words, I would tell you.