(Published at The Writers Club)

At her worst,
Amy hung my worth
over a silver scale.
A quill had tipped reasons to
stay come this time
next season, we’d
be in separate beds.
But the lessons learned
with a will, there’s a way
to stop the tears, remembering
the cost of her walking out
the door led me to you.
At her worst, I’m at my best.
I can adore you, unlike the rest.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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