Friday, December 17, 2010

I would love you, even in that light
that brings out every bump and fold
in the skin
that stretches over your rounded, thick bones.

I would love you, even if every hair on your head
withered
to ash,
making you bald and vulnerable.

I would love you, even in absolute blackness,
in blindness,
in doubt,
your likeness dependent only
on the confident baritone of your voice.

I would love you, even if shallow crows
called my love
for you
conventional,
expected,
dull,
fleeting.

I would love you, even if more than a few paved streets
separated us,
if miles, miles, miles
or past loves, covered in soot and asphalt stood
between us.

I would love you, even if it meant giving up
my former life,
to lose myself in your
cynical brown eyes.

I would love you , even if you said I was
"precious,"
that hideous word
that places doilies on the heads
of all those that earn its title.

I would love you, even if you called
charade!
sham!
bluff!
afraid that I was conning you
with my romantic verse.

I would love you, I do love you, I will love you.

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