Believe

I would die a thousand deaths
at my own hand to know you love me
but cannot deny myself long

enough to say I love you

I would write a thousands poems
by my own hand to declare devotion
but cannot pick up your word long

enough to read love

etched in stone
written in blood
hammered in wood

traced in dust by your finger
as you point away condemnation
resurrect the body of work

you planned just for me

and I die
in your arms
live
in your plan
trace your fingerprint
on my heart