The Fading of effort in a poem
The ultimate irony is me writing a poem
And then convincing someone that that is what it is
When I write these - they are just a short cut to edited life
But I love you.
Every day - all of you.
My entire family.
I cry at myself for how much I love you
And how poor I am at conveying it.
Everyone has trouble conveying love
It's a hard thing to be vulberable forever
And that's what leave really is
It's rolling over and showing your belly
It's trust.
Real trust.
For no other reason than it fixes you.
It allows you to sleep knowing that no matter what
Someone will give up everything for you
And I would give up everything for all of you
