I am an army of jealous marching,
Armed with guitars.
I am no conqueror,
Lording over roses,
But they won’t get near you.
You are a flower of your own.
Your tongue is a ninja.
A kunai is at my throat.
Your *******…is a tactical unit.

I know what I want.
And I am easily angered.
Yes, you would see me
Slaughtering flying-kisses
With a Balisong;
Love letters for you--
Burned, gunpowder.
I would be on the watch
With a machine gun,
Guarding your heart.
And then you would call me
Weird.

You see, my heart has a detonator.
And if it's your wish to see me
Exploding, then let it be,
Yet do not pick the pieces,
The adjectives in the streets--
You will only make a lament
Out of them.

Dear,
I am just a blacksmith of words.
And your love…is a blazing fire.

I am at war
With your senses,
Your attention.
You are mine.*

© 2014 J.S.P.