for an a
touched,
tender
naught, herself
a cornucopia
of fruits flowering
a body in water,
as if water
needed a bridge to cross
the
extended luxury,
a guise, a
lurxury
in and of
itself
and still
something worth holding on to, still
the rolling
roll
something
not heartfelt
yet
felt
in an
instance of instant
recognition
(no
one meant it
to be,
but
it
is
and was
always
meant to
be, because)
she touches
or,
reaches
for the
exact
[moment]
to tell all
she has been told only told back to her and told to another told back to her
and told back to her and rejected and rejected and rejected and still only left
with the things she is left with and thankful and glad for the things she has
been left with the family the friends the lovers who listen and learn and love
all around all around
always
