Here's My Heart

From http://www.napowrimo.net/ : And now our (again — totally optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a pantun. Not a pantoum— though they are related. The pantun is a traditional Malay form, a style of which was later adapted into French and then English as the pantoum. A pantun consists of rhymed quatrains (abab), with 8-12 syllables per line. The first two lines of each quatrain aren’t meant to have a formal, logical link to the second two lines, although the two halves of each quatrain are supposed to have an imaginative or imagistic connection.
~

I can't fit into a prompt. To Hell w/ it! Here's my Heart.

Look at you in your lavender dress!
I've seen full fields of hyacinth flowers.
If I searched forevermore, I'd be hard-pressed
to find another fair enough,
who could give justice this royal ensemble.

Love was just a word
until my heart became
a busted cistern.
My streets were filled w/ blood.
And You came
to tend my wounds
and cauterize my lacerations.

Your touch is emollient enough
to soothe a drunken beast
who rages at the facade
of the civilized world.

I learned to forget.
I shifted my focus.
W/ you in my world,
I put positive thoughts
into action.

Cleaning-up
w/o losing Style.
An imperative to learn
for the excess-refined.

You can still have fun.
Your former excess
serves a valuable lesson.
Your experience becomes wisdom.

I say all this w/ a contingent present:
Prioritize your Perspective.
Accept what you must do,
and relinquish the weight of
what doesn't truly matter.

Look at you in your lavender dress.
Our little-girl sleeps in
her big-girl bed.

I never thought those words
would be mine to utter.
It goes back to acceptance.
Knowing the difference
in biology and psychology.

What does blood matter
to a real man?
He will provide love and laughter
w/o hesitation 
when Destiny becomes his.

Psychology is the seed of Life.
What are you made of?
Nurture the seed.
Provide light and nutrients.

Perhaps you are cruel of heart.
Feeding unhealthy desires
which are better to deny.

I would raze your lot,
and that would be justice.
But Wisdom says to let go,
let go, let go.

My Girl basks in the sun
w/ her lavender dress on.
The bubbling laughter of our child
plays in my Mind, crystallized to Memory.

I am but a winged dove,
driven thru snow,
to find home.

How could I ever 
let this go?

An action made impossible
by the stars of Fate.
Or call it Free Will--
We choose to be together.

And I can't deny
our time spent in the foamy breakers,
crashing hard on rocky shore.
But we never turned our back
on one another--always facing--
to assure--it's alright.

My inability to reveal
the depths of my Love
by word of Poem,
is not a strike against my Will--
I stammer at it nonetheless.

How sublime I rightly feel
when skin is skin ensconced in
Ecstasy's design!

Love is a work of Art.
Its work is endless,
and will never find summation.
This is just a taste of honey
given to you
for the eagle's milk
which healed me.