Will today be the day, anticipated
Fervently until all else is lost,
That some trace of you passes
Near enough?
Tense, coiled, weaving
Knots through the Ithmia
And knots in my stomach,
You seed surety and doubt alike.

Should I be this nervous?
Fretting and trembling,
Grasping instinctively
To clutch at hilt and fletch.
I worry grooves in steel,
A riddled testament
Of my shame
For you to decode.

Do you find fascination in me
As I find in you?
When you sever an artery,
The spray toasts to our future.
A devouring maw is surely
Your smirking leer.
Shimmering auras coalesce
Into an iridescent invitation.
Each obscene arc of your weapon
Speaks to me alone,
announcing your intentions
And staking your claims.

Do you hear my answer,
The way my fingers pluck out
A tune on my bow? A lilting twang
That says here I am
I am for you
I am yours
And yours and yours and yours
A thousand times
Come,
Mute my song
Break the string
And my fingers with it.

Do I cry out
In joy or terror,
Does the pain matter
Now that you are on me?
Reave me, rend me, ravage me,
Until there is nothing
But the smeared remains of a life
Plaintively offered

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Chronos, in the year 858 AF.