No one told him
Loving was a contact sport.
Bruises.
Blood.
Dazed Vision.
That “pain in the ass” kind of love 
That enfolds a man’s heart,
Brings him to his knees 
When dragons could not
When legions would not
When cold nor heat, nor rain and snow
Nor 3 pieced warriors of law
With all their slicing procedures
Could stop
His forward movement.
But a woman’s cut
Leaves him stunned,
Crying for air 
To continue the climb.