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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