Unwrapped is the Scarf

Creamy skin, with fingernail bites
 red streaks obscurely sheered 
 absorbed in fabric, now glued
 to a garment of a soul beneath.

No choice, but to wind then bind 
 enclosed within a folded scarf
 arms wrapped to defend
 these emotions over time.

But vague is the nameless pain
 unexplained, in aimless rooms
 intoxicated is the anguish
 which squanders life
 unable to reclaim.

Then windblown are the seeds when sewn
 strewn amongst the traveled thoughts
 unraveled are the disentangled threads
 when put to bed to rest.

Unwrapped is the scarf
 when love has passed the test
 the nightingale sings away
 the darkness of the shadowed night
 while nestled in the bosom
 as emotions, see the light.