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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