Oh! My beloved
I do not own a heart to put you through Child-bearing.
The pain that awaits you
once we are done fumbling and tumbling in this beautiful Lust,
is one that would cause your soul to break
and your dust (delicate flesh) to be shattered.
I do not trust myself,
for I would reach deep down, to the bottom of your soul
and deposit a piece of me.
It will dwell therein, till it breaks upon the ocean that floods your bowels.
The earth is angry at this union,
for we were made to produce after our kind.
It rains curses on this union,
for it brings not after its kind.
Oh! My beautiful half,
I do not own a heart to let this careless dagger pierce through
for it is reckless and would break in two, your delicate me.
Yes! Your delicate me; for you are a part of me and
this pain would only mean no joy once you are gone.
Maybe when we are fully grown,
we'd find the heart to bare the pain this youthful lust so bid we endure!
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