Maybe I froze my heart,
locked it up, threw it away
into the snows that cover my fields.
Maybe I burned my heart,
let it love too hard,
until it extinguished itself.
Maybe I buried my heart,
in a well of loam and soil,
and covered it, forgot to mark the spot.
Maybe I blew away my heart,
whipped it with cruel winds
until it gave up, tired
of trying to care.
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