after Beckett
I would like my love to die
Or at least that I didn’t love you
So much. If I could turn my heart
To winter, I wouldn’t need to do this
To the earth. If you didn’t smile
In your sleep or touch my face
With tenderness, I could walk away
From you when you left through
The trap door of my hosta-lined heart
Without looking back. I wish I didn’t
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