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edward palmquist

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any good love poem

2008

Overwhelmed by all of the things you’re not
I realize I never loved what you are.
Foolishly I had created an image of perfection
which reality never seemed to measure up to.
Fifteen was a difficult age
and any escape was welcome.
Yet as time goes by
I see that I only wanted you out of desperation.
Frustrated by the fact that my love for another was never acknowledged,
I turned to you to fill the void.
Yet all desire for you has collapsed into itself
a tiny universe of possibilities and wet dreams
swallowing up the chances of any real love.
I turned to writing love poems
as if words could give validity to my feelings.
Yet I never let you read any of them
as if I needed only to convince others
and sincerity would follow naturally.
I’m sure you loved it all though
having me wrapped around your finger.
You seemed to get some sort of satisfaction
knowing that you alone controlled my prospects for pleasure.
But you really didn’t you know?
Or else how could I have let you go?
Yes it’s been lonely
and the memory of your flesh continues to creep up
when I’m left to my own devices.
Even now I still find ways to pretend I love you
denying how much we hurt each other in the end.
So I suppose I’ll continue to write of you
knowing full well it will never reach you
as it should be with any good love poem.

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