My amour-plated heart

My amour-plated heart. pic

 

I am curious in a casual way

to enquire within

to knock at the door behind which

failed space and ruins lurk in shrouds

grief looms and guilt skitters not being quite

so apologetic

and if I were to enter in

would I trip and drown in tears spilt of love

lost in the commonwealth of desire sold short

the skirting boards and rough hewn timber prone

to splinter; a sea then, of waste and recrimination

and having entered in

would I seek solace in quiet things like thoughts or prayer

to unberth me from  the quay so that I could float

on principals and occupy untainted  air

to be a visitor, a welcome guest treading on the hearth

and be comfortable contained within the walls

and would I, so ensconced

be able to declare my love unflinchingly

offering up the dregs along with the spoons

and silverware; could I admit to all of it

and  suffer my lips to say- I love you?

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