a poem

And when you tire,

when war surrounds you,

when your bones are on fire,

when you’ve broken yourself in too many places,

when you’ve found false hope in too many faces,

when you’ve run as far away from me as you can,

when you’ve whored your heart out to too many men,

when you believe with your spirit that your soul is too ill,

I will love you. I will love you still.

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