I am not beautiful
not like the one who had taken her hand is
the one of the fine, thin neck and feather-black hair
the thin waist, the docile hips
no, no, I will never have anything like that.
All I have is words.
Words
wild, dawn-fingered hair
a quick-silver tongue
is no match for a face that makes common men gasp
in silent awe at beauty.
Tonight,
I do not even have the words,
my brothers
I only have the shadow-struck tears
and eyes that won't guide me to sleep.
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