Love in the Dust

Am I Broken?

When told that

I’m so handsome—

I assume that it’s my

heart you want

to collect as your ransom.

It’s my countenance, not

my mind—

that they all

seem to seek.

I’ll notice your soul long

before your body. I’m a different

kind of blind.

I can’t help it; I fancy the fall.

I’ve fallen for the meretricious—

so beautiful, so bleak.

I’ve been bonded by trauma,

and I’ve been fractured by

trust.

I crave the love of legends

until we rot or become dust…