This used to be the title
but it has become less true:
Everything you have heard
about me is absolutely true.
when you personally have seen
the stained glass tomb
of my reckless conscience.
(My secret is one of pain-
staking obviousness,
like the moon disguised
as a smooth, curved star.)
(My secret is one of love-
dreams faltering in
spite of boundless faith
in our mint condition.)
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