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How I loved loving him
like a poem I obsessively
tweaked to bruised perfection

how I pursued him
like a coveted muse
who had all the answers.

Oh yes, I was young once
and I can understand
the temptation to make
eternities out of moments

but the Devil is in
the damn details, among
all the silent stanzas you
thought fit to let fade
with the rest of the
discarded hours.

But, my dear
young poet, you’ll
realize that soon enough.

Honesty and consistency
are the real masterpiece.
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“Roots Birth” by photographer Julien Orre

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