I will be the phoenix from the ash. I will not grant them my laboured breath in anxiety, only pleasure. You may have bruises, but only on my skin. I smack I choke.
Keep your hands off my heart.
Although I know that I would wear it like a black eye, shining, if only I had the belief. Give me a something to chainmail my smile. Only arrows can get in. And only those with the intention to aim true