At the Door my Love Stands

Rush of melancholy as she stands
Bag stuffed, overflowing in my door
Was it me? Was it him? i must ask
Wishing not to hear an answer
Spoke to me she did not
For nothing to say in defense
Defenseless actions bare no explanation

My rusty limb braces a tired man
Eyes searching reasons
Finding fault were none lie
Was it me or was it him?
Better than i is he?
Selfless, thoughtful, loving
Those are mine

Physical must be her aim
Sights set to pleasure not found
I’m a good man, are i not
Her needs my goal
To please her always and first
No man’s touch like mine

Spoils
Yes that must be it!
Alas it could not,
These rusty limbs and broken back
All for her
Name it and it was hers

Speechless my love stands at my door
Breeze blowing flowery scents as new green rustles
Spring is a time of love
But spring haunts me for,
It was when my love stood silent
At my door

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