My pigeon heart

I must have drawn you

and hewn you from stone,

murmured limpid into the chiselled

marble of your ear and

brought you into existence.

I will rest in the Milky Way

of your arms, and I do not think

that you will tear the crepe of my soul

with clumsy words or hands.

I have tied my torn ribbon

faith to you that you will not

pock me with marks of criticism

or mock me once you have raised me up

on the berries of your love.

And I have seen how shade

can eclipse all light at the furthest stretch 

of my spirit, so you would not break

my pigeon heart, would you?

Image from pixabay