to hide one’s heart inside of a frozen man is to survive. One can hide like a bulb in the ground and have a luxurious winter of the heart – a sad and longing winter, one can rest in all the reasons to hide
Where will I put my love?
Go pour your love into someone that doesn’t love back, that is a note to myself

This will make you write of longing for terrible parents, of healing from want and lack
I hide my heart in freezer-hearted people, their hearts big empty freezers.
Located in the room called too much to do.
Right behind listening to everyone else. Shoved between being funny and pleasing to the eye.
The payoff of wandering through freezers, you wonder? (Put your hat on)
Isn’t it obvious? I smugly blame you for never knowing me.
I hide my heart in you when you’re not looking and I think I know where it is.
You may know where I put my love but you will never know where I put my heart.
So that when you walk away in your frozen state
You still don’t have my heart, because it’s safely cradled on the ice of some other man’s commitment issues, or avoidant attachment style, or he’s a narcissist or god forbid a Scorpio or Aries, he’s history, he’s like all the others, he’s boring for that reason, he’s a book, he’s summed up in a listicle.

And, he’s not that into you they tell me
If you impoverish the wound it cannot heal
And an unlocked wound is Pain, or Love, but not Heart
Because I’ve found my heart in sidewalk cracks, an accidental bloom in a careless city, planned by no one
With certain fondness, I stare.

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