I suppose I'd say:

I hold my anxiety
in the space between my finger joints
as they twitch,
my ire in my teeth and jaws
as the shining pearls rooted in my soft gums
are ground to bitter enamel
(never my knuckles,
I've always been too soft for that).
My sadness must sit under my eyes
and behind shoulders
as they slump down
to hold me on cold nights-

But love?

I might say in my cheeks
when they hurt from smiling too much,
or the spasm of my hands
as euphoria engulfs me,
or in the giddy knots formed in my stomach.

But no;

I think I hold my love
in the cartilage
holding my ribcage together,
how it aches as if something is missing
(although nothing ever is)

Perhaps we are meant to be fragile beings,
our hearts are too delicate to hold
the weight of all the joy love brings,
when hearts unite with rings of gold,
when the beauty and shine
over time wear thin,
and our mortal bonds weaken
and grow dim.

But, they say that time can heal all wounds,
yet past scars remain, fresh and raw,
aching beneath the sun and moon,
breaking every persuasive law.
To love so deeply is nature's test:
The more we feel,
the more we stress.

Is this the price we have to pay
for moments of euphoria?
Each high must have its falling day,
and each bond have an exposure.
When love creates vengeful beggars
because, the other breaks a sacred vow
that was made together.

Like shards of glass inbedded in skin,
betrayal cuts deeper than any blade.
Each memory, a poison that taints within,
crushing a loyal heart until it breaks,
and the more it beats,
the more it bleeds;
A contradiction of the heart’s
wants and needs.

And, still we chase this precious curse,
A blessed disease and painful gift.
In love’s ravenous hunger and insatiable thirst,
our hearts will move on and heal the rift.
Though pain and love
walk hand in hand,
Through desire,
we grow and understand.

©️Lizzie Bevis