I have grown accustomed
to the caricature of love
Selfish, demanding, jealous, angry lies
Far better to face the known enemy
Armor already in place
Ready for another battle
That no one can win
Then I hear it.
The still small voice
telling me I am wrong
Love is waiting, pure and true
Dare I listen? How can I not?
Before I know it the armor has dropped
leaving me naked and afraid
Strong arms wrap around me
A voice in my ear
soothing my fears
with tenderness and soft words
Gentle hands caress me
warming my skin and my soul
offering forever and more
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