By Sol Dente, TIWP Student

i will love you no matter your misdemeanors 
she says
her hand in mine
and my heart in hers
a cacophony of drums 
i have never been loved before
the only supports i know 
is the marble i call my paper 
and
the words she has left stained on it 
we were born of war 
perhaps it is fitting 
that we are made 
of love 
so many people have asked 
what love is to me 
i did not know 
until she wove it for me 
in a tapestry of follicles and strands
physical contact is our base instinct 
perhaps that is why she is mine
and i am hers
if i were to be honest
something i am far too often
i do not yet believe that i am hers
but she will make me 
her weapon is her words, 
and her touch, and her 
blunt styrofoam heart
she is resorting to violence for me
isn’t that sweet?
we were both born of war 
she has bandaged my heart with her love
i would thank her,
but she will not have it 
i have tried to apologize for the way i am 
she will not have that either 
she has chosen her weapon 
it is sky blue styrofoam
her love is scrawled in sharpie on the side
she has resorted to force 
she has resorted to love