I used to love you. . .

I used to love you
With a kind of frantic breathlessness
Every hair follicle screaming

My hands would tremble when
I saw you on Fridays
I would lie

on my office floor in the
Dark feet on my chair
Talking to you on the phone for

My day ruined if I didn’t hear your voice
In my ear At least four times
Now the soles of my

Love you
I love you with the patient resilience
Of the seasons I

Love you even when I know I’m
Disappointing you
Or splitting my infinitives
Or when the world we imagined
Is not the world in which we find

It seems to be, really that I’ve always
Loved you. Al

2 Responses to “I used to love you. . .”

  1. April 9, 2013 at 1:22 pm

    Mmmm…. 🙂
    The world we imagine is rarely (if ever) the one in which we find ourselves. I guess that’s why we imagine it.

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