if you should stop loving me;
I’d understand; I’d stop loving me too,

and the asymmetrical jaw of
the 5’7 (5’8 in dress shoes) man
with mommy and daddy issues,
(short king or whatever the fuck they call it,)
the man who scatters his socks everywhere,
the one who cannot remember anything,
much less his own mistakes,
the man with the weaker eye,
the diffident demeanor,
the argumentative nature and antipathetic attitude
hidden behind this friendly persona,
the over-thinker overanalyzing and reanalyzing,

over-worrying and overworking,
the misanthropic recluse judging the world
from a distance afraid of their own judgements,

if you should stop loving me;
I’d understand, I’d stop loving me too
if I were you,

and these sweaty palms showcased
as an excuse to not untangle fear,
the receding hairline and back hair,
the maniacal outbursts of arrogance
and self-inflicted wounds from grandeur
unmaterialized,
and the insatiable hunger for you
that never ceases no matter how much
we love, no matter how much

I taste your skin,

this Chiron wound has made me
hard to love in this lifetime,
but you have loved me
in spite of these sour moods
and difficult presentations,
this quiet critic that judges everything
to the mere atom in the composition
of the being observed,
this laboriously pensive mad-scientist
mixing together ways to self-diagnose
another mental illness left untreated,

this instability at jobs,
this infuriating desire to have everything,
this inability to recognize that

I have everything already,
and in it is you and you are all,
you are everything,

and should your love for me cease,
I would have long ago stopped loving me too,
I would have long ago stopped loving
the ugly in this man that dims your light,
the ugly in me that darkens everything.