Broken Sonnets for a Departed Lover - II
You're never more alone than when you're in a crowd
Standing on the bus, I finding myself weepingWithout control. Solicitous old ladies, leapingShakily to their feet, offer me their seats,Along with tissues and mints, as the streets Blur past through rain smeared windows.I feel like one of those scary weirdosI used to edge away from, despising theirTwitching features and unkempt hair. I dab at my eyes, despising my overtWeakness. Why did you choose now to insertYourself in...