The Ire of My Own Stupidity

I'm a dumb-dumb,
but at least I know
what it's like
to fall in love.

Order storms,

I am haunted by

the ghosts of

myself.

LA in 

an NYC 

poet covered

in due and dew. 

For all days, 

I will carry my heart
in love's Tupperware, 

comparing it.

At the end gates when there,

as the color of her hair 

tells me where to 

go to seek end.

I may be dead

but at least I knew
what it's like
to live in love.