Where everything is out of focus, eyes
Inventing half of what it sees--don't mar
The visage with everything your heart denies.
The warts and moles and cancers and red boils,
The drooping eyes, the frizzy hair, the smell
Of something warm, bacterial recoils
The stomach, and you know that all's not well.
And yet, the human in you wants to hold
Her tight. And yet, the virtue in you wants
To push her far away. You'll stand alone.
And yet, there's nothing in her flaxen, gold,
Loose curls that doesn't pull. Yes, her hair haunts
Your heart--demands for justice turns to stone.
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