You sat across from me in darkness, sharpening your words, honing your bladed wit, your lesson plans forgotten on the stand. You would not need them, burned as they were across your soul, in fire and blood and splintered wood. And I, I sat across from you in silence, feeling your sharp words as yet unspoken, polishing my shielded heart, wounded though it was with fire and blood and splintered wood. And when you moved, I flinched, haunted with the silent blows as yet unfelt. Knowing they were coming, in fire and blood and jagged words But not with splintered wood. How can I defend myself from this? A kiss at once so delicate and razor sharp it cuts right through my shielded heart and bathes it with the taste of fire and blood and.... and even splintered wood that I once buried in your soul... So I am yours and you are mine a love that's burned across a thousand lifetimes entwined in fire and blood and jagged words forever. But not in splintered wood.
Autumn '97