What none of you appreciated

The rejections most grand were never

the women who arrived late to the

moment of fate, and then bade

fare thee bad, and 

sad 

and had, and 

then 

casually disposed of the you

that was you.

The rejections most grand

connected like

maths from early 

child-hooded pain to 

twenty-something 

[t]error, and then 

more,

and then

some, and 

then there were 

numbers 

that dumbly defined us.

And although yous were 

so truly

prizeworthy creatures of

fabulous fable, told fairy-

like first, and 

then 

after despised, and 

beloved,

and dispatched as if 

none

cared more than

famous queen of 

ice, how nicely

the story tied me up, and

closed down my 

options 

and openings 

and saddenings gal-

ore.

Like a woman of fleeting

glimpses, I loved you at

seven and then at

twenty-six, and in neither

of these cases was

it 

quite enough for 

either.

And what yous never 

appreciated,

as you took it upon yourselves

to solve me for myself 

quite fine and absolutely 

defined,

is 

how solutions cannot

exist for me: 

for the only 

single solution 

would honestly be if

the woman of 

my seven and the 

woman of

my twenty-six 

went and 

loved enough

for me 

to be that

entirely

complete beast of joy.

But now this is bad 

and now this is rad-

ically wrong,

and now this is impossible 

and now this is impassable 

and now the verses are

impassively glancing the

faces and 

wasted moments of lives so

long spent, 

no longer does opportunity 

knick-knack our

destiny.

I deserve nothing else.

And that is for

sure.

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