War

To my former lovers I want to say:

I take it back.

From the
love letters and
the notes scribbled on napkins to
every syllable I have ever uttered,
from the
stolen glances and
the hands held under tables,
to the kisses raw with lust,

this is me officially dissolving

            everything.

Even when my hands
were held to my beating
heart and every
word I spoke dripped with
honesty – know that I
might have thought I
meant it then

but I know
now that my tongue has
been dabbling in dying
dialects of love and has
only tasted its true origin
sixty-six days ago.

So I take it all back.

And to you I will say:

Lover,

I am a warrior.
The natural state of my fists
has always been clenched
and ready. My skin has always
been black and blue with
disenchantment. I am the
soldier and the battleground,

but for sixty-six days now,
there has been no war inside
my chest, no bickering
of the organs –
no head against heart;

I belong
peacefully
to you.

And my hands,

Lover,

my hands are no longer discouraged
hearts held up before my eyes
ready to throw the first punch,

you have grown Sunflower fields
on my lifelines so my arms are
always outstretched and my palms

are always open
searching
for your Light.