Unarmored Mercy

You’re under my skin
against the meat of me,
embedded in my flesh,
holding my scarred heart,
which is beating like hell,
unarmored,
mercy-filled,
in your beautiful hands.

Surprised,
I don’t have any clothing in here;
I’m a naked,
raw,
scared small child,
huddling in the open,
vulnerable,
so sensitive.
Any wind blows me,
any heat sears me,
any chill kills through to my bones, blue grey frostbite.

I love you,
ache for you,
scream for you.
You are my merciful muse.
I dream in the night,
believe with the fiber of me,
all the day,
that you’re perfect for me,
am terrified that you’re perfect for me,
while in those same moments
can scarcely breathe through the fear
that maybe I’m all wrong for you.

You keep my secrets,
wipe my tears,
whisper my name,
grab my hair,
kiss my nipples erect in the night air,
bring me to climax
while trying to hold me at bay,
all my wild passions,
until we heal,
till we’re whole,
while we wait to be free.

But I’m no help to you here
with that Herculean load
even though I see all the grace
you’re trying to walk through this with.
I cannot help you or myself
because you are under my skin
and it’s all I can see,
all I feel,
you embedded,
emblazoned
against the aching
child flesh of my
unarmored,
mercy-filled heart.

~ cj 2011.07.06