She had,
Burst out emotions,
Said many,
But did they know,
She was a living sea.

A woman,
Not all,
of course not,
only with womb,
But heart.
no be mother,
heart before.

bite it,

chew it,

it just holds,

around again.

just like,

my broken self respect.

reading a book,

felt like conversation,

with thounsands,

who can relate.

just a fracture,
To be splinted,
to try to fix,
But if not,
Or malunion.
Re-break it.

I feel alive,
to wince,
and numb.
living , not dead.

Warm but hot,
have now,
Or thick it,
taste matters.

I can't see,
or feel,
myself a real.
I often,
let others,
cut me out.

path to,
Happiness is,
following steps,
Of self.

I wish ,
ethic of work,
I follow,
to beat ,
and not bleed.

A half love,
And half pain.
Put her out,
She jumps again,
no one ever,
Saw her sing,
as crying is ,
What she did.

To read,
Is to feed on,
Broth of feelings,
Served with heart,
Of a writer.
warm or cold,
How broken matters.