I'm so tired of fighting....

When is screaming going to heal?
When will the cold keep us warm?
Using words like needles
though your heart is plush with love;
why do you push
and then ask me to pull?

This love is ripe.
This love is sweet -
just like the fruits of our latest nights -
and yet we are so sour.
You can throw quarrels and daggers
laced with spite and cyanide,
but then what can be done
when your fruits shrivel
and die?

When your mind clear,
as too is your path,
and I'm always there
waiting on the other side.

I'm so tired of fighting,
but I'd only sleep with you.
So keep this room sacred,
and let the only noise heard
be the sounds that lips make
when they dance with each other.