up the stairs, hand in hand

words caress my heart,
plead to be released.
it is not my place to refuse.
it is not my place to stand in their way.

a poem, forged from pain, hope and truth.
a poet, worried about the consequences.
does it matter? should it matter?

a resolve. this is my story.
it is mine to tell. my soul, my hope.
this is my vulnerability: i'm too open.

it was only a dream, and those things tend not to come true. probably a good thing.

getting your heart well and truly broken - not a good thing

expect more of the same. sorry

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