I will not write a poem for you

I will not write

a poem for you,

maybe about you,

but only for me.

Because I once

described my pain

as each one of

my toes shriveling

up and falling off,

And if it came down

to it I know you

would chop my toes

off before your own

and I would be okay

with that,

because you’re the

one that needs to

lay brick and hammer

nails, and I’m just

the one that

writes poems about it.

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