Posted in Uncategorized

Lunch Words

This heart, mine, the one residing

in between bones and flesh

slightly off center,

is far from being a warrior

and the only time I’d call him a hero

is when he keeps me breathing,

and what a feat that is, no?

 

Instead of a warrior

instead of a hero

I’d like you to know

that this heart, my heart,

is really a foreigner in its own land.

 

Lost and deaf to words

Unpatriotic to its land

aimlessly stumbling

from cafe

to hotel

to ruins

to sky.

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