OSTENTATIO VULNERUM



Love accumulates.
It doesn’t sort into grades
and it doesn’t rank
greater or lesser.

The heart is held together
by scar tissue, holds
all, rebuilds, repopulates.
The scars will flower
in the heart’s springtide.

The heart lives in the moment;
the trick is not to
gutter out when the love does.

A youth clenched tight like
a fist, refusing
to admit even the light
lest someone see the
secret he was protecting.

When the heart bleeds out
even a cracked kettle

will be of more use to you.

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