February 2012
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Love Poem
by Anaïs Mitchell
I. Before we met I lived alone And purified myself with books And curled tight inside the bud Of my perfect childhood
But blossoms fell out in the street Blossoms fell around my feet The night he brought me home with him The night he brought me home
II. The place was a nightmare, stacks and stacks of Books and papers, warped with age Record jackets, cans of beer, mattress...
