I’m Sorry
or Hemlock
How can I not love you? Please tell me, because
I am afraid that loving you means pushing you away.
Tell me how Beethoven could not have loved the strings,
the piano, music. How could Shakespeare not have loved
the quill and the stage, his art? How might Socrates not have
been enamored of the Truth?
My art? Loving you. Help me extricate myself.
I am hopeless. Driven toward masterpiece.
You, Me.
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