how easily, naturally
as kids we spilled our
hearts out to each other

i was with you then
in my closet, to get
away from our parents.
flashlight in front, hearts
in our hands.

i told you everything,
before forming the
questions i had for you.
i gave you everything,
hoping it wasn’t too much.

we spent nights situated
on top of those words,
wondering how it impacted.
how each other felt after.

as an adult, i feel
overwhelmed, out of
reach. childlike wonders
cease me as my vices
replace me.

where’s my childlike
wonder? buried in my
hands, where i crushed
my heart? or in my chest
where you placed yours?

so i searched. and as
naturally, easily as i
remembered, i spilt my
heart out on pen, and slid
it to you with a heart
embroidered on the side.

hoping it wasn’t too much.