When the Poets Run Out of Things to Say

The saddest word

I ever heard

I heard of just today

that loving her

was to defer

more love to self some way.

How crude,

how worn,

how deep forlorn

that view of love so flawed!

How evident

of life that’s spent

in vanity’s own fraud.

If only you

could see right through

that lie you’re holding close

then you might see

despairingly

it’s not love that you’ve imposed . . .

I Don’t Want You . . . . Anymore

I don’t want you

to think you owe me a thing,

or to shed a tear

in sadness,

or to get the wrong idea

about your place in my life.

I want you to know true love

that goes beyond

mere emotions,

weep for lasting joy,

and know exactly where you stand.

I don’t want you

to have to second guess

anymore.

As Much as I Used To

I find

that I don’t love you

as much as

I used to,

you have shown your cards,

your flaws,

your imperfections,

your tells,

you have shown your weaknesses

and bared your soul

to someone

inferior,

you have shown compassion

to the very same

when it was not deserved.

Still

I find

that I don’t love you

as much as

I used to

for

I have loved you more

with each passing day