The lunatic

poetry

I am back, such as the unfaithful wife returns after deserting her home,
humble and small
I have gone to sea and come back with my head on my hand
Almost slain, almost loved
I can only confess half of my sins and wish I had sinned more
Both world and home move on and over my dislodged limbs,
expanding in words and invisible shapes.
I confess I resent you half as much as I love you
Having loved only two people in my life, all of you included,
I have certainly returned just as sane.

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