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All I have is showers and coffee and writing. And sometimes I’m sure I can’t even write anymore. And sometimes the water doesn’t get hot enough. And I can’t make the coffee taste right lately. So what is there left for me?

my heart has a first name

my heart is a lot
my heart is bent
sometimes it is broken

my heart is heavy
my heart is healthy
sometimes it is lost

my heart is full of love
and full of blood
and color, perhaps red

my heart is a writer
and holds many spaces
for those I love

my heart is even held
by at least a few
but maybe just two

but there are things
that my heart is not
especially empty

*In response to Empty.