Why do I love Keara?
Loving her broken soul
has weaved its way through
the shyness that binds us
together in a bed of gold and red leaves.
I find pleasure in dreary weather.
The raindrops bounced off my face
to roll off my cheeks
like the sweat flowing over my brows.
What could be better?
A plastic face tremors
in disgrace as I face
the fear my closet
closed without my permission.
I opened it, shifted empathy,
moved hopelessness,
and dusted off indifference.
My boundaries held
over the borders
that tried to shift blame.
I tossed what I carried
to the graveyard of life-ending regrets.
I discarded the tragic baggage
we’d regret on our deathbed.
I love because weakness perfects love.