I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with.
Tell me how they failed you or
how you failed them.
I want you to tell me that each one of them
even at their best
could never compare with me
even at my worst.
Baby, tell me
that you knew love
but you never knew god
before you made love to me
(or is that putting words in your mouth?)
Don't tell me I'm perfect;
Tell me how you love every one of my faults
because it's mine.
Tell me how even when I'm on my knees
it's you who's begging.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Mary's Mixed Bag
(prompt was to take a first line from a poem and riff on it. I chose "Asking Too Much" by Andrea Gibson)