DIABETIC TO AFFECTION

You’re taming me.

Fearlessly,                    
you face 
the ferrocious fangs         
of the lion living
in my soul                            
ready to  
feed

on sorrows                   
I cannot forget– expecting
his usual diet,                   
acid,          
disguised as sugary
promises

left behind again.       

But this anticipaion
subsides,                                                   
soothed when you               
breathe,                                  
sweeter than                            
rain,

pouring honey
and sugar         
and truth.               
                      
This gaping cavity
in my chest
catches          
every
last
drop.              
                                          
And it doesn’t hurt.          
                                               
No,
I’m not so diabetic to
affection                                 
as I expected.

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