Hard To Write Of Love
It’s hard to write of love,
Cumbersome to think of such uncertainty,
Yet so bloody glorious.
Elation,
Fulfilment,
Denial in the face of understanding.
This path is no longer straight,
No longer the singular focus
Of my own attention.
If life is short,
Love’s shorter still,
I’ll wait awhile and bathe within.
And should she ever know,
And should she ever love me back,
Then watch out world.
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