For just the bread…

When you said you’d meet me,
I was really sort of blank;
All those
Years ago forgotten,
Stored in some locked memory bank

But you
Sounded so in earnest,
With such trouble in your voice,
That I
Came to you unthinking
That I really had a choice

Ring around your finger
All the failure, all the tears;
Without really asking
For the sake of yesteryears

So I
Gave you consolation,
Ate the bread and drank the wine;
Though you
Teemed with isolation,
And a newly minted shine

Why was
I the one you reached for?
I had come for just the bread,
To be filled with sorrows
Overflowing from

Your head

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