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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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