Cure for my grammar

Met a girl on the streets of Khan
she recognized my writing
but not my face
It’s a burden anyway to be known
by your face, your name
they don’t mean a thing
but my writing, being especially bad
holds a special place in her heart
it’s how she remembers our love
inept and grammatically incorrect
broken words,
delinquent on the daily
hanging around poems
without meter or tenor
only existing by virtue
of my tragic stupidity
having loved and let go
the cure for my grammar
medicine for my soul.

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