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Jan 2018
I saw the art of your being, the beauty in your soul, and the exquisite nature of your mind. I saw the depth of you and wanted to plunge into the deepest corridors of your crooked and tattered heart -- a heart that longed for love, but would never reciprocate.

For many many months I dove down, desperately trying to seize a part of you that would hold onto me too, any fragment of emotion you held, or rather withheld from me. However, the deeper I tried to delve into that cold and dark heart, the farther away I had become from who I was. In that abyss I found pain and anguish, the atmosphere was toxic and the brokenness of your past swallowed me whole. It continued churning, but with me in it.

Your heart was scarred and beaten ****** by the elements of the world around you, but what you failed to realize, was what you contributed to that world as well. To my world, which now revolved around you. The toxicity of your unhealed pain hardened your heart, enclosing me in, and infecting my own heart with it.

I was, and still am, plagued with the longing to root myself under all the hurt and despair you feel and plant hope. Plant hope among the chaos, water the seeds of love, and purify us both. I long for a garden to sprout among the weeds that have strangled us, and produce flowers of the sweetest scent and berries of the sweetest juice.

But in the flaw of my design, and the toxicity that has ruled my heart, there is error in my beliefs. As much as I attempt to wrap you up in the warmth of my love, that will not fix you. I cannot fix you. Now I drift in the tides of anger, sadness, and nostalgia, trying to give my soul rest and balance on the foundation of truth and faith.
June 30, 2017.

An old piece written during a time of great anxiety and sadness. Thankfully, I have since parted with the subject of this poem and have been relieved of the aforementioned "plague."
Written by
Alana Cartwright  19/F
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