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

That in-between each storm, rainbows-shine
where slight or lots of rain has fallen,
I have an overview quite crystalline
our love, it's just 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, weight of countermeasure.

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