I’m back to love
There are more thorns than roses this time
Because I chose to hurt myself before
You came along and took my pain as yours
You touched me to ease my pain
Even though I failed to feel your love
I looked for it elsewhere
I didn’t know where to look
You pointed yourself to me, but I chose to ignore.
From the printed word you reach out to me
And hold my hand,
I clasp yours.
And the little blob of blood is smeared on my palm
Exactly where they ran the peg through your palm
Two millennia before
You have been my first love . . .
Let this be my last too . . .
Till I’m rid of this world.