Splinters

Love is a joust,
and we’re all given favors,
indentured like Faust,
to taste many flavors,

longing to gallop,
not knowing the peril,
crash with a wallop,
heart smitten virile,

and you feel your alive,
though you know that you’ve died,
but you’ve chosen to drive,
for the thing that you vied,

now coming together,
to crash and collide,
through perilous weather,
aloft do we ride,

and sundered is one,
though oft times it’s both,
where under the sun,
their blood makes an oath,

to never again,
to hold and to keep,
commit to this sin,
in armor we sleep,

though shrouded and mystic,
we say that it be,
serrated sadistic,
the price and the fee,

and lances the core,
chain mail subverted,
bludgeoned abhor,
they wince cause they hurted,

the field left tattered,
the melee devolving,
helms bitter battered,
no problem resolving,

they hobble to steeds,
with fragments of lances,
a heart that still bleeds,
forsaken romances,

here comes another,
and there goes the one,
again we’re together,
the foray not done,

and holding the rags,
of promising wenches,
eternity drags,
dredging the trenches,

that run through our flesh,
they cover our souls,
and leave but a mesh,
with splinters and holes.

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