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Jan 2016
She offered me her heart
And I broke it.

I kept a piece
It once stung
Like a glass shard piercing flesh.

Yet now I feel it
Form and essence
Warm and tender
Longing to be touched
Longing to be held
Longing to be loved.

On one hand
I feel like the thief
The taker of what was never mine
to take.

On the other hand
I feel like the giver
Who offers his heart
to another.

Maybe they in turn
Will shatter my heart
Taking a piece
Which was never theirs to take.

When the time comes
I will rebuild my heart
The heart with a piece now missing
And I will only be able to repair
With the piece I stole before.
Kenneth Everett Rathburn
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