Flying Through Shooting Stars – Post Six-Hundred-Thirty-One

I’ve loved you so long,
I’ve feared even longer
You’re more than I deserve.
I’ve come to realize
I’ve not been honest with my heart.
I’ve thrown daggers at my own back,
I’ve stabbed my own flesh with the foolish choices of my youth.
Wise eyes and unstable ground are what I’ve obtained.
I’ve committed my heart to quicksand,
And a slow, painful pressure is what has come of it.
Tears are shed; I’m damaged goods.
I’ve kissed the thorns of a rise and blindly smiled as they tore through my soul.
I’ve been led to reassurance,
Yet I’ve never drank of its cup.

How can you love a soul that’s never existed?
A soul torn at the seam by Life’s mysteries.
How can you hold a heart that’s been split and shot by its own demise?
And yet you manage.
You tenderly hold this damaged, frightened heart
As you watch it’s soul grow before your eyes.

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