Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Pristine Condition

My heart isn't in pristine condition,

tiny stitches runs up its
walls where it took 
two pieces and made them 
(somewhat) whole again,

bruised from the 
times it has proven itself 
(again and again) that it's too big 
for my ribcage to hold,

fluttering with any
anticipation and the ensuing 
anxiety of rushing
(terrifying) feelings that fill it to the brim.

My heart isn't in pristine condition,
it's been hurt so many times
but it aches in want at 
the slight brush of 
your fingertips,

and if you'll take it 
with its stitches and bruises and
humming of aches 
I'd gladly surrender it to you.

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