strange
that having loved,
and having battered,
and having hardened against its demands,
that love
once an instinct
at liberty, at home
is a stranger now,
how strange.
I marvel at the heart's forgetfulness
the side effects of resistance
I wonder at the mind's defensiveness
the consequences
of placing faith in fear
and the promise of love, rediscovered,
wavers and quickens my pulse
and then I walk away,
assuming the manner of the unaffected
who fear less and love with lower stakes.
how strange,
to love and not fear.
it doesn't suit me
I stand still
and wait for the stranger's pursuit
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