in love
I begin by deceiving myself
in romance
I end by relieving myself
of scars that streak red
across waxen faces
of lines that sag cruelly
against youth’s graces

in love
I begin by deceiving myself
in romance
I end with perceiving myself
as sallow with
the age of my sins
but only upon
my painted on skin

in romance
I am older
than my friends
older than
any end
that in striving for
becomes what I am dying for —

but my face is clean
clean of the sin that boils
my heart
clean of the pride
that spoils each part of me

that could be redeemed

in love
with myself