Sunday, October 9, 2016

D is for damaged

For I usually dote on
the troublesome,
the quaint men.

I didn't anticipate you.

I wasn't ready to love
a person as honest
and humane as you

Then I didn't.
I apologize.

You are curious
as a statement of the dynamic
changes of heart,

as an illuminating breach
in the consideration of faltering.

I might have written you
ten thousand words if you hadn't
come into my life this late.

At this time,
I am damaged.

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