I can recognize Love when I see it
(& I can recognize loathing)
just as well as you.
If her looks were lances,
surely they would cleanly pierce me through.
What kindness should I offer?
To the one who would lie in my bed
if she, now, had the key
to your current doorways.
No dear, do not begrudge me
for my lack of trusting
her ulterior intent.
She once came, and went
where her tides left you half-drowned
washed up, on lonely shores.
So forgive me,
I won’t ask you to distance her
if don’t expect me
to cherish her, anymore.
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