Your husband's gone. He won't be back.
Why not come live with me?
Your heart's been bruised. You'll soon see that
I'll treat it tenderly.
A page in your life's book has turned,
But don't you dare pretend
That injuries you haven't earned
Have brought you to its end.
Believe, instead, that you are merely
To the middle part.
Move in and thrive. I love you dearly
With my own bruised heart.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 32 times
Written on 2023-01-06 at 20:20
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