For T.
I never kept my attraction secret,
Rather, regard was too often laid bare.
Yet, I gave comfort, asking no credit,
And thy judgment censured a soul who cared.
Your rebuke, undeserv’d, cut deeply –
A jagged edge drawn, and kindness repaid
With crimson rivers – the wounds still seeping
As you reappeared, once more seeking aid.
How should I answer thee? Open my heart
To thy pleas despite these scars I carry;
When what remains is but the worser part
Of me, and better nature lies buried?
Charity strives
‘gainst a spirit vanquished;
For no
good deed, they say, goes unpunished.
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