Love, you leave me breathless,
fired by curls of hair along your arm or chest
and now my heart’s a storm blown rag,
fearing every gust or thorn,
the dangers of a cut throat’s prowl,
the mastiff’s lockdown bite.
I’d pray if praying helped and offer bribes
to oil the tick and play of random acts,
to weight the roll of chaos
or its anti twin to kinder odds
and keep you safe from allergens
ballooning through your fragile cells
or from the nails of jealous girls.
And yes, I’d blunt the spike of pathogens
with booster shot or firewall
and steer you from the river’s crust
of fickle ice or quicksand’s wicked kiss.
And yes, I’d take the impact,
grant you an immunity
if such a shield was mine to give,
and guard the subtle pulse
within your traceries of vein.
Love has undermined my equilibrium
and if I fear disaster
or that your heart could cease
to whir its perfect harmonies,
then humour this insanity
– my weakness dear, is you.