A leftover

A leftover from a foreign land
drapes o’er my body so
and moves like one attached to
the beauty of true love.

It’s like I knew to save, protect,
and keep it pristine, new,
from the demons and the monsters
harboured in the mind.

When all is still and I’m of mind
I hear their frank rebukes
but it’s easy once, twice, three times,
to flick them to the side.

But they persist, persist,
and the flick grows weak and weaker
until claws and teeth are sunken in
the overlay of love.

It cries, you know, it surely does,
pain comes with each attack
and the monsters grow in stature
in the mind, just in the mind.

So it is and so will be
until the heart beats fulsome, free,
and walks forever proudly me
draped with my love of you!