stumbles in
drunk again
smelling strongly of other men.
She steps
in the door
falls to the floor
and sobs, "I'm just a whore."
And his heart
breaks as she takes
labored breaths,
sobs for her mistakes.
He aches
to hold her
nor scold her
his love is bolder
than the boulder
of the weight of
her sins.
And so begins
the dance of their
broken romance.
Each glance she steals
only reveals his look
of love that heals
as she feels
at peace again.
Again he dries
from red puffy eyes
tears cried a thousand times
'cause she tries and tries
but the lies
and eyes
of idols
passing idly by beguile
with a smile
and then
she's gone . . . for a while.
She turns, returns
as each lover spurns
and rejects her,
infects her,
neglects her,
ejects her.
She recalls the one who selects her.
He fights for her
delights in her
would change the sky's lights for her
because he'd die for her.
He did die for her.
So again he holds
her close
dries her eyes
with his clothes
and anew she knows
her first and only love.
