I Nurse My Heart, My Right To Love You Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Though your words injure me cruelly,
I nurse my heart, my right to love you.
I'd never weep or cry unduly.
I don't second-guess or misconstrue.

In between each storm, rainbows shine.
Where slight or lots of rain has fallen,
I have an overview that is quite crystalline.
Our love, it's just a blossom and pollen.

It can take a bee to uncover
On angry wings, the-real-true-treasure
The passion that fashioned her lover
His kisses, the weight of countermeasure.

To embrace her and rediscover
Her sting is just an acupuncture.
Her lips, later his cartographer
Mapping every joint, every juncture.