Faking an illness
To avoid the work
Can a malingerer exist in love?
Can the laughs, hugs
And caresses
All be a form of a malingerer’s act
Of convention or consternation?
Is love truly blind?
Is the ugly truth of Love’s affection
So difficult to bear?
Why settle like everyone else?
Why giggle, dance
And smile
To appease onlookers of absent passion?
For once
Stop the ingrained teachings
Of a malingering childhood
Notice a sincere love waits

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