Thoughts of thy kisses calm me when upset.
Our passion turns the “thou” and “I” to “we,”
By love, not foes, O may I be beset.
To Jakku let us flee (sans Palpatine),
There meet the call of passion at our best.
Thou art the shell and I, within, thy bean,
My love for thee hath ev’ry day progress’d.
Love is the order lovers must obey,
Love is the new-grown fruit sprung from the heart,
Love plunges one headlong into the fray,
Love is a never-to-be-master’d art.
Though Sith would gladly see me disappear,
With thee, e’en space shall not too bleak appear.
No comments:
Post a Comment