Lawrence S. Pertillar (February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)
I would rather receive true love to me given,
Than to be told by the giver delivering it...
What I am getting from them,
Is a love upon me...
And I with my eyes closed await,
Anticipating to become elated.
Neither does it touch me with a feeling to get.
Nor do I believe what it is I 'should' receive,
Could possibly come from one giving love done.
Or has ever known with senses convinced,
What I knew to be love beyond the telling shown.
With a keeping of a heat to release my inner beast.
But left I am to guess and wonder when alone,
If what had been expressed achieved any depth?
And should I imagine 'after' love had been confessed,
If intended intensity had been involved and meant?
Since missing in action I was not and this I know,
While in the midst of exchanging it with hardened evidence.
To leave me mystified as to why I am partially clothed,
As I open my eyes to hear my door suddenly slam close.
'Why did you leave me so abruptly? '
~You promised me a thick steak for dinner.
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