It’s not that I didn’t grow
it’s just that I didn’t grow, up.

It was kind of a helix, a kind of a swirl
sometimes a woman and sometimes a girl.
I broke into bits and something new came to pass
but some of the broken bits re-attached
and it was new
but it was old
and it wasn’t pretty
and often cold.

And it’s never seemed time to come back inside-
too soon for the warmth that might hinder or hide
the uncomfortable truth, my relentless guide.

Not until my heartless groom
finds heart enough to light this room,
to take his place here by my side
and offer a cloak to his world weary bride.



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