It has been love
Over anger
Over shame
Over procrastination
Over idle sound of self that is unawake

It has been love
Before poverty
Before disaster
Before corruption
Before world's greatest conspiracy

It is a small portion of its ignored abundance
That turned my rusty brain to think
That moved this stale heart to feel
That discovered the long-lost poetry
To be poured on to words of beauty and regret

It is all love
Right after
I rummaged the deepest part of my memory of you
Of him
Of him before him
Of another him

Of a meaningless kiss
Of hours in the train station, waiting
Of conscious stalking

It has been love
And the tiniest nature of it that is destructive
That make us such a filth for it


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