Of the heart in your eyes now

Of the heart that’s there then not, or apparent


A childhood of wanting approval

An adulthood of stubbornness yet wanting approval

A journey of knowing then not knowing but loving


Every millistep


Mixed up and


Now it’s with me, holding my hand

I want to let go

I don’t know but

Its grip is tight


And when I fuck up


It leaves marks from its nails

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