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What Love Allows



The dumb things compelled to do beautiful things—
can I ever love them as I loved your beautiful lies,
your eyes shining, your breath fast and fragrant,
as I love them still, so long after your departure?
Is there no hope ever for parity
with beautiful things doing dumb things?
What if everything I feel is wrong?
What if everything I can feel is wrong?
Feel, think, believe, want, do.
I sometimes think that everyone would see how love is wrong
if love allowed it, if we were made differently
and preferred right to sweet, true to beautiful.
If I can love them, but not the same and not as much,
then what must they think of my love, and what must they think of me?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.