Assassins of the Heart

Seriously, inspiration can strike anywhere at anytime, and this happened to me during my run last night. About 2 miles into my run I thought of this poem (FYI: the achievement description came from a famous quote by a famous poet, try and find it who it was!):

Target: Love
By Shane Grayson

Blood pumping through veins;
Heart beating at an increased rate;
Nerves shocked with excitement;
These damn stairs are never ending.

She is draped over my shoulder;
At moments tickling my ear;
“Hold her close for dear life”, I tell myself
She is the only friend I have left.

We finally make it to the room, and
I lay her on the bed with gentility;
I begin to undress her piece by piece;
I see that she is in pieces,
And I propose to put her back together.

She is the only friend I’ve ever known;
We have been through so much together;
Seen the world through each other’s eyes;
Hers more clearer than mine at times, but, as I believe,
I am the only one in control, not she.

Even though she is a puzzle to others,
I am the only one whom can put her back together;
Only I can’t put her back together,
And use her in the way she was meant to be used.

Once again, we are and ready to dance;
Opening the window for our preparation,
Even though at times these moments cause trepidation;
Opening the window soothes my soul;
Or maybe this is just one of our preparatory habits.

I find the testament in her dress, and
It reads like a laundry list of famous men;
With names, or, are they words?
Are they scratched out?
No, they are words, words thrown away without pause.

There is one word left on this list;
All the others have been scratched out;
She truly is a work of art, this incarnate love;
We peer out the window with endless bliss;
Our target has been spotted, and we shall not miss.

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