So very young she is

(a mere sixteen)

There is hope that you haven’t yet discovered…

discovered her -

her weaknesses,

her feelings,

her heart.

She wants to be secretive.

It isn’t working.

Poor child she is

Growing into a woman.

Crying, always

crying.

She can’t understand why you know

why you needed to find out,

why you need to see.

Her heart – poor heart.

It is, indeed

a contortionist-

It bends in all directions

stretches more than it should

It can’t help but follow love.

But how-

how does it, how will it know?

There’s no way to be sure.

It’s stretched.

It’s confused.

Her heart – it’s overworked.

It smiles.

It aches.

It grows-

and it shrinks,

that heart of hers.

It bleeds.

It heals.

It does too much.

A workaholic.

A heart in overdrive.

It’s lost.

It just wants to find love.

It just wants to stop hurting.

It just wants to stop being discovered.

Every time it is found, they toss it away.

Does anyone care for her heart?

She does.

She doesn’t know what love is,

she doesn’t know how to find it.

But still –

she searches.

She knows what she wants

and she’s going to find it –

Someday.