
She will desire peace at the
Cost of war—
Being both prisoner and soldier
Believing if she fought harder,
Bled more,
And denied her own
Thirst for more
Hunger for justice
and sight for more
Then she will be enough.
When her body no longer
Blushes with your coming,
Has peace with your going,
And all love becomes an act.
The weapons of her warfare
Time, body, and energy
Have been taken as spoils!
And she will do all allowed
To pull herself back together
Your touch no longer soothes.
The heat that was there has
Cooled…
With the turning of
Her head…the love is dead.
she will put self above love—
and nothing else will matter
JBHarris, 11.20.20