I know you care
And want to know what's wrong,
But oh my love,
I am so much better
At walking away.
I am adept at ignoring heartache.
I am skilled
At stuffing the pain.
To reach into my heart
And try to pull it out,
Weeding the thorns of my garden...
Does the Earth feel it
When we tear roots from her skin?
Does it hurt
To rip the wrong?
Or was it wrong at all?
So let me hold my pain,
Gather it like dust.
Maybe one day,
You can blow it from my shoulders.
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