Every once in a while I meet a song that I am destined to play over and over, until the ache begins to lessen, little by little. I was drawn to this by the melody and the words both, as if a moth to a flame.
It would only be later on when I will find out that the song is about abuse, which would leave me gasping, hand over my heart, reeling and in disbelief, as if I have been found out without my meaning to.
Her fight and fury is fiery
Oh but she loves
Like sleep to the freezing
Sweet and right and merciful
I’m all but washed
In the tide of her breathing
And it’s worth it, it’s divine
I have this some of the time
The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine