Love 3

3.

When Love comes again
he's gentle and kind. He holds
my hand. He brushes my hair.
He stands outside the closed

door, reading me poems.
He speaks in parables
and metaphors. He holds
my breasts when we sleep.

When I leave, I go quietly.
I take nothing. I dream
that he weeps in my closet,
smelling my clothes.

 

This is part of a series I'm working on.

• Part 1
• Part 2