A goddam love poem

Falling, but like drapes fall:
Heavy dust over disposition.
Failure to rise
or embrace, I still fake
the bulk of this yearning.

To think love, to smile love,
to feel love, even,
isn’t to love.

And while our spaces collapse,
that nice cushion that separates
my person from your person,
I’m a cat, scrabbling at the walls,
or the ugly muse inspiring thoughts
nobody’s wanting.

I am not impressed with me, haven’t been,
and this act of discovery
makes me nervous; because why should you find
anything behind my words
worth staying around for?

Failing in seven directions
like a spiral unwinding
blinking while doors close tight.
The coarse windmill of habit.

It works okay until someone
draws near enough to mark, to notice;
the clean lines become a dark blur.

* * * *

I didn’t want to.
But I had to-
You were a spring of pure, sweet water;
and I was thirsty.

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3 thoughts on “A goddam love poem

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