the art of love

my first heartbreak happened when i was 20 years old.

i was just a girl in the world, a virgin left with the feeling like i had never been loved before.

i wish i never met him and wished my first love was you.

in a deep and loving way, i think it has been what keeps me holding onto memories.

as i work through my healing, my heart cracks open a thousand blossoms.

i must admit, each time, it flutters open with butterflies.

the release has been healing, as i look across that bridge, i see the fog has dimmed my view.

i see neither him or you.

is that what healing looks like? a dimmed view?

is that how love goes? is that art?

Categories Indigenous

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