Of Sorts

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I have a new definition
Of how I feel
It’s in my somewhat long strides
In search of comfort
Or maybe a reassuring voice

It’s in the number of times
I think I’ve said your name unconsciously
In fear that I might have lost you
Because my heart is feeble
And I’m now man enough to admit

This is my languid attempt at contradiction
A subpar form of affection
I learnt to nurture in my youth
For what I truly mean to say
Is that I fall for you
With the force of ten thousand marching soldiers

But this will be just another poem
Word play of sorts
Another glorification of all you mean
To me and more
An ample confirmation of the flaws
That grow with my love for you.

-Smyekh David-West.