I’m all open and I hope it hurts 

I wasn’t enough.

I was too happy,

and maybe sad,

and maybe mad,

too often;

I wanted sex too much,

but I couldn’t never get it quite right

could I, love 

and my brain could

never soften,

but my heart

was oft too soft.

was it something about

the way that I run?

or was it that I always

have words at the tip

of my tongue,

ready to burst from

the belly of my lungs – 

was it fun? 

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