Poets and Love

By
Poets are supposed to know about love.
It was impulse.
Instinct.
I knew your place was safe,
And I had to see you when I felt my heart break.
I told the story.
It poured like water falling through the drain,
The words.
They stain like ink and,
They are more permanent than this pen.
You don’t deserve,
A kiss of innocence.
Promised to another.
Claimed by a cheated lover.
I leave as expected.
Guilty,
Now your heart is broken,
And mine is still in ruin.
You,
A writer, self-declared.
A poet, unprepared,
And poets are supposed to know about love.





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