A weapon that’s finely honed—
not more than a wire, a knife.
Nowhere on Earth I belonged,
until you invaded my life.
Around me, your arms wrap with comfort;
warmth spreading; hold’s steady, no effort.
Throughout, all’s familiar, safe.
My self (for what I always longed)—
no longer a weapon, a knife—
a man, fully, finally owned.
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 1:06 PM UTC
A weapon that’s finely honed—
not more than a wire, a knife.
Nowhere on Earth I belonged,
until you invaded my life.
Around me, your arms wrap with comfort;
warmth spreading; hold’s steady, no effort.
Throughout, all’s familiar, safe.
My self (for what I always longed)—
no longer a weapon, a knife—
a man, fully, finally owned.
Request permission to use this poem