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When He Talked About Love It Was Almost Midnight

when he began to talk about love
(but to me it was mostly lust)
it was past midnight and i was already sleepy
(or was it drowsy)
for i could not believe every story that he was relating to me
it was something miserable
(and perhaps too unbelievable
why all the pain? where could happiness and her myths be?)
but

out of civility i pretended to listen
for deep within me the man in him is crying
begging to be listened too even for the last hours of the night

then he was asking some more
beyond what i could possibly give him
(i was thinking of someone else more deserving
love as higher than pity
empathy as more noble than sympathy)

and then i decided to cut short where the sobbing is
(i expected more than that
perhaps

the silence would have served us better
and the pauses like a comma between two long sentences

perhaps respect for feelings and then
i finally cut short where he was wanting more

i still have tomorrow to take care of
more things to do of equal importance

like love, family, society, public welfare,
like morality and decency
and obedience to authority
like religion and faith and
order and law and justice and tranquility
of the human mind.

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