Home of a Heart

I organize unorganized messes in the bottom of my brain.
Where parades of memory drummers
march around in circles
waiting for me to fall.

And sometimes I do
because I let myself.
Falling is sometimes the only way to feel
that something is right in life
that life is not just in the living room of my heart
but that it is the heart
and that I am here
because of it. 

 

 

 

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3 comments on “Home of a Heart

  1. calexandra says:

    This really touched me. I love this writing of yours. The words and phrases in this are beautifully written.

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