The Colors of a Healing Heart
At 13, I first felt it
The briskness of butterflies
The heat of spring
A seed was planted
And a flower began to grow.
As winter came,
The green wilted away
The wings clipped off
Those little love bugs
Like hair pins
Nestled in a rat’s nest.
It was easier back then
Falling over and kissing my heels
Every time he neared.
Yet he turned to it
And it turned to nothing
As the days passed.
But my laments still scatter
In the wind
As I watch pink water
Rise and fall with each
Heartbeat,
I’m now eighteen, Hoping
I may feel it
Again.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
Our world
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