W R I S T S

on

A million words were not enough to pick up and carry sorrow to the end of its sentences
A million songs were not enough to restore hope to the height of its crescendos


A million seconds of looking into one another’s eyes
A million minutes of being in each other’s arms
A million hours of making love
Birthed parts of them that alone could not be fertilized
A million deaths they died
A million tears they cried
They’d do it all again to witness their love being born


The million heartstrings drawn in the legato of Love are endless burning fires tattooed upon the wrists of passion