Not the type for “I love you’s”
feelings are strong enough
Exacting the appearance of perfection
Attempting the illusion of being tough
I am my mothers daughter
motherless daughter you know
No longer the girl of my youth
Recognition of of this sober telepathic truth
I see more in you than I’ve seen elsewhere before
There was no lack of ease
Pushing shut an open door
Look at the sparse furnishings
Craving something more
What good are feelings like this
When the heart is left hollow and sore
Losing the riches of love to find yourself poor
Feels like repetitively beating your head on the floor
Knowing deep down you don’t want to do that anymore
so what’s this all really for
Growing and expanding
saving a spot inside
Wondering if I have been true to myself
or if only to myself I lie.

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