Everyone except me can be
clumsy—oh—my brain blunders
I need everything chemical
You concocted me a vile . . . a vial
By extravagant actinic mixes
you can accept me as I am
Everyone seems to . . . except me.
After you admitted—laughing
that you destroyed all the several
thousand wine glasses
at my brother’s wedding
It was me who opined that maybe
what with how everyone seemed fine
except me, we'd be better off
not having anything nice
And you told me again
that you accept me as I am
After many years
and crumbled things upstairs
in the attic, we'll be glad we
stayed and loved among the ruins
of what we might have been,
alone, if we cared to be
But I'll be glad you accepted me
Everyone seems to . . . except me
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