of my love it fit you like
a velvet glove, molded to your
leather hand, wrapped around
your fingers like a rubber band, cutting off
your circulation. You'd be growing
a new mutation.

If you held a drop
of my pain it crush you like
a freight train. You'd be cut off from
the wrist. Your veins hanging
into a gnarly twist.

If you held a drop
of my sweat, a tiny pearl
be a threat. It burn a hole inside
your palm as if someone dropped
an hydrogen bomb.

If you held a drop
of my tears, for all the years
I wept inside my hands you'd fill
the oceans and the seas. I’m not a pluck
of hair you can tweeze.