The Deinfatuation
I love you, she said. And I sighed.
But I’m not in love with you. And I cried.
Finally at last our hearts have met,
Now she’s finally deinfatuated: just like me.
Now I thought we can love first imperfectly,
Creating for each a space of safety,
Drawing each other outwards and towards,
Each other intertwined but separately.
I looked up arms open ready to speak
But she left leaving our heart bleak.