Luv you still
If you knew,
I was a sinner,
Would you luv,
me, still?
Still, I am,
A sinner, still.
Never moving,
Never growing.
Dammed, I am,
By choice,
My own.
To grow, I must,
Be dammed, no more.
Yet I luv,
You, still.
“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” ― William Butler Yeats
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I love to collect thoughts. I would love to collect some of yours, if they are mindful and respectable.