I am the judge
of what is left of me.
I am not easy.
I love when love is needed
but today there
is a harshness
around the edges of language.
Even the word:
harshness bites, tears
a little here, where
I have tried to hold it.
I used to have the love of
women too beautiful
for love. It was
not easy.
I am the judge
of all that is left
after we both say goodbye.
After the language has died
for both of us
for want of love.