Hearts are not heart-shaped at all. They are fist sized and fistlike. They punch and grind their teeth to our flesh. They don't come in a pretty red. They don't come with pretty curves. They are flesh like and ugly. They are darkened and torn to pieces into origami squares.
Nobody cares anymore what they are like. I could give you mine. It still dares do amaze me. It still beats. As a violent parent supposed once to be pretty and able to love.
I could give you mine. But I folded it into a dove. And it flew away.
Nobody cares anymore what they are like. I could give you mine. It still dares do amaze me. It still beats. As a violent parent supposed once to be pretty and able to love.
I could give you mine. But I folded it into a dove. And it flew away.
noctuidea.jan.09
Scio linguam latinam et illiud latine poteo dicere.
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Bene, cum Latine nescias, nolo manus meas in te maculare.
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