Your Hands All Over My Pages

Love, do not be jealous
of the verses I wrote
for the ones who came before you,
they were prologues
of heartaches I turned into art
with the clumsy skill of a heart
under the weight of all
that I thought I couldn’t survive
know that I’ve known how to love ardently
from the beginning
and I did not lose myself
know that I have been sure before
and have had my certainties mocked
yet I would gamble again

love, a lot has happened in the night
fights broke out and many have gone home
and the music and conversation
have devolved into noise
but my shoes are still on
and I have saved you the last dance

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