For love is but a burden-
that spirals through your veins.
Caresses your worry,
And brightens
your greatest strengths.
For them it is the same.
The love
leaks through your defenses,
Even when anger-
is at it's greatest.
It wraps throughout your heart-
Keeping it in one piece.
A beautiful gift to give.
Love swims inside your brain,
keeping some thoughts at bay-
and letting others
rush up in a high-tide.
It swings from bone to bone,
Groping around your muscles-
a force-field against the tension.
You don't want to upset-
the Ribbon
that's made so many knots.
You don't want to have it
ripped out-
in fear of coming undone.
The love is but a ribbon-
Stitching into your soul.
The farther in it goes,
the faster the needle Sews-
The more pain it causes,
the more you uncoil.
But the comforted magnificence
of the stitching,
may even be worth the ripping.
As the Ribbon is wound-
Small parts will slip
where it can't be found,
and those parts-
Will always be with you.
Never to be ripped from the seams.
Love is but a Bounded-Ribbon,
Stitching into your soul.