Dearest

The paradox of debt is that
it's never paid in full; it never

goes away. For every nail and brick
tapped into place to build your house,

you've had to carry tablets of 
stone. And perhaps it's impossible 

to acknowledge every gift with instant
recompense. You could light a candle 

in church, pen a letter; or wait years,
decades, for a sign: something you think

you'd know as love. But then it walks through 
the doors without any hint of recognition.  
   


 

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