Oh, Love —

Oh, love —
Let every touch be love,
And may the very light that brushes eyes
Call out your name —

Oh, love —
I’ve felt you in the dark,
The hope that whispers comfort when
The night is filled with shame.

The emblem, and the meaningless,
The symptom, and the curse,
The absent, and the manifest,
The chapter, and the verse —

Oh, love —
I want to know your heart,
And feel you pulsing there,
Beneath my skin —

Oh, love —
There is no other way:
For all of us must end where we

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “Oh, Love —”

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