being my lover

after a lifetime of wearing

the clichéd compliments I tore to tatty clothes

and lying awake over the taxes

you paid for trying to love me

and hiding under the bed

each cent of your evaporated dignity

 

I will suddenly believe

and start collecting mists and rain

to shower down on your shoulders strained

and water each thirsty furrow around your eyes

till they flower into withering relief

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