If at one time I thought my heart would break
Without your presence to give it shape
I have been proved wrong
My heart is slow and dull and painless
But it is not in pieces
It seeks nothing and noone
Except perhaps some solitude and quiet
It does not extend itself to warmth or care
It remains in its cave, dark and empty
Cushioned in numbness, it withdraws from any spike of feeling
It will hibernate, insulated, wrapped in the felt of danger
And never be bare again
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