A Picture Of Grace Poem by Your sword vs my pen

You lie on the tarmac
In shimmering lace,
Shivering, hiding your face.
My tongue can still taste
Your skin.

A dead rose; you burn
Black in repose-
You learn to expose all
The faults of my own,
And profit from my fall.

I’ll light the fuse on this phone
So it goes off when I least expect,
And blows us all away.

It’s in my chest, I feel it
Tight and suffocating-
As your sword cuts the sky,
Cold and merciless;
I find the dignity in sacrifice.