[If You May Love Me] a poem

When you first informed me that you loved me,
it was a tragedy so soon followed when blessedness
sprawled across my face, became a morbid convincing
unconvinced;

if skepticism has risen,
it is not the refusal nor refute
of your claim of love;
nobody has ever loved me,
so if you do, if this proclamation
has grown so,
a lifetime so long not being loved
has been magnetized,
worth every dark minute since-


Dontrell Lovet't
from, [Just a Body]

[& Then]

-this heart has long held an infamous,
almost callous reputation worthy of the
promiscuous sort-

-it hides not its head in a shallow
hold to funeral its pulse,
so beats unashamedly with unmistakable
murmurs to those many fragments
of defects, both diagnosed and idiopathic-

-every woman I've laid,
I've
loved uniquely,
note no unfounded suppositions that
those stacks of flat-backed
damsels held no worth-

-if a memoir shall provide itself,
even in the event there is a sought
Kafka-burrow, the grave that shall
hold this body, always only a body,
is one i'll toil in this never-knowing-
never-ending-aloneness,

in that frequent time,
in abundant spare-



Dontrell Lovet't
from, [Just a Body]