THOSE WHO FORGIVE ARE BRUTAL
By Colin James
You had followed my ample derrière
through the maze of its solitude.
Every other viable congruent abstained
either swoon, albeit acknowledgement,
or elbows like yon Grey's
dissuaded the same.
It was the kindness you offered me
that overwhelmed every little inch.
While thoughts are foretasting,
argue if you must.
Better that than not knowing if
I have loved you enough.
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