She trapped her fragile, bleeding heart
inside a cage of rib and bone.
It sometimes beat as a drum of war,
but mostly rode opposite of an emotional drone.
He spent a lifetime hopping dreams
that swirled around his head,
thinking abstractly on derailed tracks.
He rode Tropicana trains instead.
Vulnerability made her flinch.
So, she locked her cage up tight.
She wasn’t looking for anyone,
but he found his way to her despite
her best attempts to ward him off.
He peeled ribs away, effortlessly.
She let him do it against objections,
because she knew he could set her free.
Feathered wings began to sprout–
hearts are meant to soar.
He said “I love you” all the time,
but she knew she loved him more.

2 thoughts on “Sprout

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