The heart
is a rough black stone.
A bit of star-stuff,
sooty and smoky,
scorched and burn't on its long fall to earth.
Which speaks,
in accusations:
"You'll never be pretty enough"
"You shouldn't have done that"
"You're too quick to anger, too quick to fear"
"Now look what you've done!"
The heart
beats within our lover.
Hear it:
"
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