The Marks Of Love

My heart races with no where to go

bleeding desires, like strawberries in snow

Staining the ground and the places it touches

silent in sound, imprisoned in clutches

Out of control and out of my hands

wounding my soul, captive to your plans

Much nicer to think it was all just a dream

as I delve into strawberries on a dish of ice cream

But instead I am left with a mess on my hands

surrendering control to every single command

That you will over my life, with no care for my heart

a meal all your own, as you dine, ala cart

For the taste of my pain is much sweeter than honey

and you hoard it all for yourself, now, isn't it funny

That despite the anguish you wield around

there is nothing more lovely than that stain on the ground