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The first time we fall in love

It pours out of us

a mess

we hold

and catch

what our hearts

can’t hide

we stitch it

to our clothes

and inevitably

get dirty

Then we adjust

to the pain

we stuff it

in a shoebox

our fists


our hearts


we keep

the lid on

We forget

about it

until it spills

out again

on its own

but now

it’s different

Love is a gift

and is often

given tenderly

and sometimes

when it leaves us

it takes a part

of us with them

To carry in their own boxes

And we carry theirs in return.



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