If I could touch heaven's soul I could find the peace I need — The peace to love, To be loved, To hold my kind of love. Darkness comes at me like pure grace. I grieve in joy for what I've lost, My tears flowing like the unending Ocean current beneath desert sand. I lie in peace. I lie in conflict. I lie in the ever-present darkness That purifies my soul. Then I thought of you. But who are you?

I'll endure the blood-freezing winter cold Rather than a single beam of your endless scold. Your love for me never grows old, But I used to think differently, feeling controlled. Benign are your wishes for me, But if only I had wishes of my own, I would create an alliance with your thoughts — Aligned in our path, We will never grow apart. Like every supermarket flower, You glow. Like the protection That comes with every piece of fabric, You never lay bare the nakedness That comes with my humanness. And just like forever, We have no end. History will remember the birth of me But never will it have a place for that pain — A pain you alone know, A knowledge which gave me breath, The breath of existence, An existence I live for you, Mum.

She tells me I'm being cute every time we fight. I try to hold on to the fights, But she kills each one with that cute first line. I try to kill the fright that comes with this feeling, But I lost my will long before I even knew her. And she holds my will. She always has.

Out in the mud We play with dirt but stay dainty. Out in the field We smile but stay sad. Out in the world We struggle, unravelling peace. Out in the struggle We live for the struggle. Out with my blood We tell the tale.

The last time you touched my breast It was not the touch — It was the aftermath. The heat between my legs Made me surrender my will to resist. You weren't compelling, Neither were you tame. My woman place screamed for your touch, Its petals voluntarily spreading to meet your touch. It wasn't your suavity, It wasn't your beauty, It wasn't you — It was your touch. Oh love, touch me again. Do it again. One last touch And I will never ask again. What have you done to me with your touch? Just touch me again. One last touch.

Slowly but surely the heart drifts home — Or so you thought. It's coming home — Or so you thought. She's coming home. All in your Tuesday thoughts. 'I'm not sure about all this again, So I wouldn't want you thinking it could be real. I'm not sure if the feelings I have are strong enough or dying. It's been back and forth. I got tired of the cycle. This is a lot. And I can't say it's your fault. I don't even know.' All her Tuesday words.