I wrote … (II)

I wrote of closure and sadness and

waiting again

and then destroyed what I wrote

which is kinda a sin for 

art should be adding 

not subtracting

the stuff that makes us feel

life is damn tough.

And although I destroyed it

kinda later on

you’d already messaged me and

maybe I knew, and maybe I didn’t 

but the decision was now taken:

what I’d written was wrong;

and it was wrong not for truth

but simply because I am changed now


And so the good you did me and my curious 


verse is no longer a reverse

but a looking forward for me.

And so a future does glint, 

not like flint but

bright sight on a horizon I suddenly

begin to shine right.

And the kindness you show me,

unbidden and freely given,

intrigues but no longer bewilders

the soul I’ve become.

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