This is not a love poem.

I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it’s a declaration of hope?

Was it something I had to get on paper quick before I lost my nerve?

I don’t remember writing these words long ago, now discovered, renewed.

This is not a love poem.

I don’t know what it is.

A subtle shift from light to dark.

Lines read left to right.

This is not a love poem.

Was it an ode to someone from the not so distant past?

Now it’s an itch to scratch

Now it’s a screen no longer blank.

This is not a love poem.

Oh, but if it were…

Photo: Alexander McQueen/Savage Beauty Exhibition

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