Thursday, May 31, 2012

A Poem



It was nice to love you for a little while,
completely by chance,
like a hamburger wrapper blown across your path catching the front of your shoe.
It was nice to feel like I wasn't,
failing,
constantly,
to not be,
but rather that i had succeeded in being,
and being something you desired,
which,
remarkably,
I also desired to be.
How often does that happen?
Not defined by my lack,
not summoned into being by what I was without,
not commodified,
not mauled and pandered to,
not something sacred or wicked or needing to be dealt with,
Just organic matter that twitched in its very own manner.
And loved for it,
completely by chance.

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