Ten of swords

Without the pretense of abandon

Let me hold you in my hands. 

Apart from these seldom kisses

There is nothing to hold me to you.

In an instance, you could leave me.

In an instance, I could be alone. 

 Are you worth a lingering happiness?

Are you made of stars?

For you, I have forgone the pieces

That I used to adjust my frame.

All of your heart

Is not worth

All of your confusion. 

What does it mean that you come to me in seldom moments? 

That you seek my warmth when you feel the chill of isolation?