I feel ashamed
That the heart that I nurtured
Is now in its stunted form of blossoming
Ever so eternal

My hands
reach out
For the arteries and the bleeding veins
Prying, Prodding with force.

I am crippled, unraveled
My sexuality, bleeding.

But so long as I smile as I walk
and nobody notices me bleeding
None shall stop
Or mutter a word.

To muster enough care for my heart to nurture again
For life, for love, for sensuality.
And for days to come.
But only when, someone shall stop.