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Poetry
model

"model" - 5/29/11

why am I always drawn to the lie
that only champions truth in my mind's eye

it's some kind of death-wish my heart must have
to keep returning, undeterred, fate-spurned

to the site where overturned stones
groan silently, crying frozen slabs of regret

these years of lovers I never truly had
too far, inconstant or worse, dispassionate

to focus on targeting cupid's bullseye still I admire
that part of my idiocy that refuses to accept reality

the way a painter admires a beautiful model

for defying the mundane with a bosom-heaving sigh