Her heart only has so much room
So many moved in and moved on through

Leaving stains that bruised.

She does her best to clean the rooms
But feels ashamed she had to move on too.

She's afraid to re-open the wounds
What if they can't handle what she's been through?

What can her poor heart do?

my ego so easily constructs
     a fantasy
in which you, my favorite reader,
       t
           r
       i
           p
over my words and fall into
a wonderland
     with me

a single small s  p  a  c  e
between the blackness of
     these letters
and you fall into my fantasy
where we relish in
     our fetters

we forget to climb back out
as the passion starts
     to mount

we lose our minds with pleasure
hands and mouths
     d      i
           s      c
                 o      v
                       e     r
                             hidden treasure

the words that you pour out
my own that you soak up
leave us beggingpleadingscreaming
till our keyboards
light back up