What’s Mine is Yours – A POEM


I won’t delve into any cliché
of offering my heart

or my soul, that blackened tripe,

or my bones, which glow so sickly white,

As a gesture of my love.

No, I don’t like to promise 

what I can’t keep,

I can’t give you the world,

Not a single street,

No diamonds or pearls,

Not that you seek 

such materials anyway.

I would like to tell you 

that I was once mine,

Before you, I ruled over this body

and mind, it was lonely, cynical

and often despised,

Stuck in a spiral of 

self-indulged lies,

A madman in the making.

I would like to tell you

that now I’m shared,

Split down the middle

from toe to hair,

I am still mine because you’re there,

Fixing and tweaking with loving repair,

Dragging me kicking

from the hate and despair

I’d grown quite fond of, 

In the end;

What’s mine is yours, 

for you are why,

I’m even there to lend.


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