It takes something visceral,
Rarified access to some deep seated pain,
To make me sob the way you do so freely.
Take it from me,
You take your tears for granted.
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turning obstacles into popsicles
And it will change me, all this. Will build up walls and break them down.
Will surround this heavy heart with battements and thorn tipped leaves.
Will then pluck them away, one at a time, savoring the small piece of my whole that sits at their base. Slowly. Curiously.
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