January 30, 2010
My lips clamp tight, my fingers clench
the splintery wood of the cold hard bench

To keep from touching, his soft warm skin
Instead I close up, instead I draw in

For how could he love me?
Him and all his glory

To see me as beautiful-
Damn this perpetual story

Of heartache and tears
And silly little fears
And prominent words unspoken

Of trying to put
Together my thoughts
That seem to get more and more broken`

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