Love is dangerous,
a pistol still hot
from firing.
I was always good
for a laugh.
I was always good
for something.
When the rain
crept into my heart,
I didn't close
any windows, but I did
shut my eyes.
Love is cruel, like the crow
pecking at my windows.
Love doesn't want,
love waits
too damn long, curtains drawn,
cobwebs forming
to fill crevices
where wonder should be.
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