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Lost

Like the North Star,
Love should be found at the end
Of the Dip
Between your hips and your stomach.

Love that I should gather
In my hands and imbibe in myself,
Feeding solitude and wretched hopes
With the raging, hormonal lust
Of young men.
I wanted a love stemming
From the desires in our
Turbulent vessels, collided and pooled
Together,
A growing sea
In which deeper and deeper
We would fall.

But you,
My supposed guide to eternal love,
Return the favors of my faith
With an impatient release of your
Sorrows and second-hand sentiments,
Leading me
Somewhere under Orion’s Belt,
Leaving me
When he is full
On the loot of my youth.

I realize now,
No longer blinded from searching for
Hidden stars,
I gave you more
Than you ever deserved.



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