I’ve given up the Fig Leaf,

I got a new haircut, trimmed my beard

I’ve given up the Chapel,

for the dream of hopeless possibility.

I’ve given up the idea

I was born ever-curious

that Fault was in an apple.

to Cupid’s vocation.

I’ll argue every day

I accepted, many years ago, my nature

that The Effort must improve,

and the futility of looking past my heart.

yet the thought of hopelessness

The hopeless romantic

near to tears did have me move.

herein resides.