The Torn Shirt Morning
0
Your stream of frank sincerity has talked
Him out of love—of loving you, I mean—
Attempts at sentiment too often blocked
By honesty from you. The desperate, keen,
Pathetic fire he fanned inside his heart
Was doused and doused and doused again, again
By candour. Fragrant love was shredded, part
By part and torn by truths that caused him pain
Dealt out in careless doses. You revealed
This devastating fact and that one when
The damage it would do could not be healed,
Repeatedly about superior men.
00 His heat for you was tender, kissing, bold.
0000 You couldn’t kiss his body. Far too old.