My Frailty
My frailty was you, perfectly damaged you. What was at first forever, slowly faded, into something more like maybe never. Yet I remained steadfast for you, shunning all else who came. For simply complicated you.
Even when you said when we have nothing left to loose, I still remained true.
I still do.
I still do.
My frailty is still you, and I have nothing left to lose, except, for perhaps you. The one thing I'd never wish to loose. That fate, however, has already come true. So now all I am left with is, my frailty of you.
Did you think you were undeserving?
Did I seem self serving?
If either seemed true, it was neither of the two. It was always only you; impeccably, faulty, you.
I loved my frailty of you.
Somewhere I still do.
I still do
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