I am Tenderly Lucky

Actually. I was until my boyfriend opened his mouth.

He bought me breakfast in bed.
We made love, and it was lovely.
And I was dreaming about that sentence:
" I am tenderly lucky," and how light and
all everything it was.  I got up to put it
down on this blog.  Just the title.  And he
walks in.  He starts to talk to me and then
I ask him if he could let me be for 5 minutes
to do this.  He speaks only French.  I can't think
in English if he is speaking French to me.  And so
he belittles the blog with one sentence.  Knowing
that I am not writing poetry right now because we
have a house that we are building.  Knowing that it
is rare indeed that I write at all.  
But he just can't shut his mouth.

In my heart I know he is good.
In my heart I know he is mean, as well.

I am a sensitive girl.

Now what was going to be an interesting and
joyful blogpost, is a shitty blog post.

Thank you.

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