Betwixt the troubles
That came in twos
Each desirable in different ways.
One no more desirable than the other.
Each with their own admirable complexities…
Each with their own questionable
perplexities…
One that gnaws and gnaws
Until a soft spot found.
The other nuzzles quickly
Without a sound.
Each perfect to themselves.
But which will my fickle, wounded heart choose?
Which will choose me in return as I am?
intotheindigo 