Poem: Lines

 I have brought 

my beggar-bowl

to the threshold of your misery; 


I have shattered 

my heart

against the stone of your vanity; 


I have nailed 

my happiness

upon the coffin of your cruelty; 


When I let myself

love you,

I accepted the inevitable, 

and it's not what is happening that hurts

but

what should have happened, inevitably. 








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from Burnt Offerings 1996 

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