A heart on a sleeve
is a sensitive thing
It beats
for all the world to see
It bares and breaks
again and again
It aches; it aches
it can not mend
It bleeds; it disturbs
a discomfort to all
Cringes back with the pain
of all it can't solve
It wonders; it ponders
It braces itself
While others are safe
tucked away on a shelf
It waits; it longs
It reaches out
"Is anyone out there?",
one hears it shout.
A heart tucked away
is safe and secure
It hurts no longer
but loves
no more
It withers
and shrinks
away from malaise
The cavernous body
No longer ablaze
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