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What Id Give for Strong Arms
 a musing by Lyrikai Winterhart 
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I've danced with shadows, kissed flame and blade,
Laughed through storms that would make gods afraid.
Ive tasted gold, Ive stolen breath
But none of it keeps out the ache beneath.

There are men who pass with faces like lore,
Roguish grins and the grit of war.
With voices low like thundered skies,
And hands that promiseno, *warn*of highs.

I crave the kind who don't ask "why,"
Who press you close til you forget to lie.
Who smell of smoke and winter wind,
Of half-healed wounds and deadly sins.

Not princes. Not saints. Not poems clean
But rough-cut kings of something keen.
Give me sweat. Give me scars.
Give me the man who *knows* who we are.

Let him lift me, let him claim,
Let him curse and cry my name.
Let him hold me like the storm holds sea,
And break this hunger quietly.

Im no maiden, I wont pretend
But gods above, Id break again
For one strong chest to fall against,
For arms, once more, that *mean* defense.

So heres my wish beneath moons glow:
If such a man still walks below,
Send him swift through fire and foam
And Ill make his storm-scarred heart my home.

~ Lyrikai Winterhart

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Ero, in the year 979 AF.