You're supposed to
suffer
for those that you love
And I do
and I have,
in a heartbeat
I would
For I fear
that I love
so quickly
That I find
myself
suffering
quite often
Now this is not a complaint
my love
you are worth it
Its just noting,
and remembering
how many before you
were not
And taking the time
to unwind
and assess the possible threat
Will that suffering
turn sour?
Turn painful?
Turn sad?
Will I regret every
discomfortable moment
I cherish today?
Or will the suffering sink
right into my bones
an overworked muscle
laid bare
Because that soreness
simply means that
something is stronger
So tell me,
even though you cannot
will you twist the arm?
Will you press the bruise?
Or am I simply worried,
looking down at my scars
left by other loves?
