Every inch of Tom reminds me of him
the delicate bones, the staggering stature
the nose, oh that tower of arrogant vanity
the translucency of skin, the smirk
compells me to fall, deeply out of Heaven
into his clasped hands. I shed fragrance
like I'm that little deer, wounded by his own pheromones.
I know I love him
I've not loved a single soul before
or after him. I've lied to people
and myself, that I can love
I can live my happily ever-after without him...
The lie liberated me, kept me awake at night
and gave me strength to write this poem...
because I never grew out of love, it seems...
