no effort

I made no effort to know you,

no attempt to understand,

and believe me, truly-

I used to distractedly skip ahead

whenever your name turned up

in the story.

So ruthless and rude,

so unconcerned,

so satanically undivided –

you were one,

the One

and you knew it,

beyond any wuthering doubt.

I made no effort to like you

and I feared you right away,

haplessly hoping that I could maybe distract,

amuse, extract or break myself away

from that inescapable ploy,

that familiar sufferance,

of knowing for a fact,

of knowing by heart

what stands written on that last page.

I made no effort at all, oh Heathcliff,

it was fatally effortless

and it was sweet,

and painless,

like that quiet Earth


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