Your love was born
prematurely, I think.
Maybe if you allowed it
to grow a little longer
inside an incubator, it
wouldn't prove to be so
small and insignificant.
Your hearts are both still
too weak to beat on their own,
let alone to beat for
someone else and
your bones aren't strong
enough to carry the weight
of someone else's emotions.
But instead, you nurse this
pathetic excuse for love
in hopes it will turn out
to be a miracle.
*Naive little girl,
didn't your mother tell you
that there's no such thing
as miracles?