Tuesday, February 14, 2012

How Poorly Do I Love You?

We have
the agreed engagement of
fingers and the casual
brace of arm on waist and
laughter to break the silence.
We sleep with limb touching limb
and feel the brief vacuum of absence.
I tell her that she
spent most of her life
orbiting around people
who never learned how
to show love.
I ask,
among the
love skills deficient,
why am I different?


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