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A love poem.

Spring comes and we walk together, through it.

Your hand in mine, your skin tells me how hard you've tried
although you'd rather I never see your skin.
I can feel how you have learned to let

winter pass without fretting.

I need you to see something:

Before you, my heart was not mine.
It was the world's. It feared.
Out of its cage, it ran wild through love with no restraint,
to anyone who called its name: 'I am yours,'
and to itself,'I've found my place.'

My silly heart, without sense,
returned only out of loyalty, a preference
for safety, when the fear became
too large to bear,
the fences, too high for jumping.

Scratching at the back of my head,
it wanted in, covered in thorns,
licking at its bleeding wounds.

This was all before, all of this:
Before you, I used love for its illusion of freedom.
Before you, love was only a backdrop chance painted me,
the only scene in which I could see
myself as beautiful.

Now I need you to hear something:

Listen to the first bird call. That is my heart,
telling you I am awake.
This first warm day,
My pet heart, now it knows true freedom,
it belongs to me,
and to you,
it runs and runs and runs,
looking back to see you laughing,
waiting, not moving,
in the brightest part of the sun.


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