Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

junk drawers

sometimes i really wish you’d quit
rummaging your fingers around in my heart
like it’s some junk drawer you only search
when you need a last minute match
to set something on fire, or one of those
twisty ties to keep your loaf of bread fresh
every time you take a tiny piece, carelessly
you’re leaving the condition of my heart
a mess – jumbled up and left half open
take it all or leave me be
and especially quit taking parts of me
then displaying them as your own
for everyone to see

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