Of the need

The heart hurts fleetly.

 

It’s childishly shameful –

burning beneath an icy-pale skin.

No one will see behind acquired confidence,

The pitiful trembling shins.

 

No one will listen long enough,

To hear the notes of primal fear,

Entangled with merry, good-hearted laugh

That is used to escape the snare.

 

The mind could not ignore,

The obvious jab of poisonous jealousy.

It’s brushed off, though, swallowing the roar,

Stepping back, disregarding necessity –

 

To own completely.

 

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