Yours is the swoon that woos
me, makes me swoon
myself,
and bless my monstrous
disastrous, lucky stars,
that somehow someone like me
caught your eye so,
and drew you
towards me. Blew me up
towards the sky
and so now.
We're left
with our way in a dance,
in each other's sway
and no pretense left. We've been
needless of more
and more pretense
each step.
Your eyes,
voice, spark
and slaying blade
arched arrows hit marks
not apparently
even aimed at, played
all the way straight through
and won. That's final enough,
for this one, who you
will love
and my response
to you
feels done, plus
not even slightly begun.
Proved best yet already, and
you move me more.
You move me beyond. I don't
know what why or how we'll find,
but I know much this: whatever
it is, if it's you, if it's yours,
then that's my biz.
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