For Him

-

Arms of doubting grace;

Soul of brittle will.

Be conscious of your apathy,

For this heart not yet fulfilled.

-

Mouth of little words and yet

A smile still turns me ill,

I a prisoner,

Of what? A heart,

not yet fulfilled.

-

Tearing curiosity for your blaring disregard,

A stir is all you give to me,

And I am yours,

Unharmed.

-

Keep light of what I ask of you,

I your pet, and still,

I bleed myself and feel too much,

For this heart,

not yet fulfilled.

---

Aw. I felt like writing a poem by Jonah. Its very angsty I know and it rhymes. I like rhyming. Heh.