Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #401
Four Hundred Times
by Belinda Roddie
Four hundred times I've made mistakes, and yet
you seem to think the very best of me.
You kiss my tears away and press your chest
against my own, dispelling tragedy
that I have concocted in my poor head.
How many are out to get me? Zero,
you remind me, and no, I won't be dead
before thirty. You do not make a show
of your affection, but you make it clear
how much I mean to you, and I
feel so ashamed for dragging you through sheer
guilt trip after guilt trip. Still, though, you try
to break the spell I've cast upon myself,
my demons, you repeat, are someone else.
by Belinda Roddie
Four hundred times I've made mistakes, and yet
you seem to think the very best of me.
You kiss my tears away and press your chest
against my own, dispelling tragedy
that I have concocted in my poor head.
How many are out to get me? Zero,
you remind me, and no, I won't be dead
before thirty. You do not make a show
of your affection, but you make it clear
how much I mean to you, and I
feel so ashamed for dragging you through sheer
guilt trip after guilt trip. Still, though, you try
to break the spell I've cast upon myself,
my demons, you repeat, are someone else.
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