[personal profile] wot_i_wrote
And so, my love, we come at last to this:
to courtroom hearings through the summer rain.
My heart, that you once purchased with a kiss,
beats yet for you, unwanted, broken, vain.

Love is a verb: it rests on what we do,
not what we feel, or say, or leave unsaid,
and so your distance stops me loving you,
undoes my promise, leaves me thus unwed.

But on my finger there's a silver band
to signify a lasting mark within.
We meet this way to end our marriage and
I feel infinity against my skin.

The judge is swift and fair, he will decide
but just division cannot this divide.
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wot_i_wrote

April 2017

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