I am not an easy person to love.

My heart is brittle.

Accessible only
to the most skilled
and delicate of
excavations.

A thin wire tool
scrapes away
the detritus
of heartbreak.

The accumulation
of self-loathing
and skewed
perception
of self-worth.

Perhaps warmth
will reside within again.

On a sherbert-colored day.

When the wind discovers its arms.

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