Filter Attention

Praying on broken knees to palms,

for this, my daily offering

to a filtered girl who asks

I gather my attention

and give up my words

so she can read

the words about herself.

She states or asks,

if I understand she wants me

writing poetry

for the span of my lifetime

a good 80 years of writings

often comparing

love’s pounding heartache.

She has the answers

that I subscribe to,

because in the end

I can’t help but to please her

I have this role to play

enabling her

to be my co-dependent lover.

I can’t wait

until she reads these words

and then demands

I erase them.

Her love is torture

I can’t help myself,

but to pray

to my muse.

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