I thought when you lost your job
you would need me more
but your weakness
divided us; your travels stopped
those visits ceased to exist.
I think too much
of how your body on mine
was a missing puzzle piece
you could not throw away.
One afternoon or one lifetime
what matters most
is the bullshit I ate
and spit it out
as poetry.
It is all fine now.
No grudges.
No criminals to arrest.
No long lost lies
about the necklace you never bought
or the book you never read.
Rumi comes once in a lifetime
you create the illusion
of being the great one
the only one
to claim to know my soul
Photo Credit: Tammy Beach Flickr via Compfight cc
