The Irony

If I held your heart in my hands.


If I cupped your innocence in my very palms.


If my eyes bore witness to your every desire.
And my fingers grazed over your tender courage.



That, would be a dilemma.




Standing there.


Grasping your pulse.




I would laugh.


I would raucously exhale every tear shed on your behalf.


My gut would spasm in mirth with every beat of my prize.




Alas.


I win.


I win and you lose.


You fail.


You are humble and defeated and I will decide our fate.




The horrors I could render.




But I won’t.


As justified as I would be and as deserving as you are.
I won’t.


If I held your heart in my hands,


I would give it back.