Half a Heart

The coffee’s brewing.
The steam is rising.
It creates a temporarily
cloudy horizon.

I give my heart to him,
as I should–
It’s how it should be.

But sometimes
I forget to give half
of my heart to me.

I’m hard on myself—
Are you hard on yourself too?
Do you constantly criticize
the things you say, the things you do?

I give so much of myself
to my partner, to the kids, to family,
that I forget to take care of myself.

The tea is steeping.
The boiling bag protests.
It creates a temporarily
sizzling guest.

I forget that I am a person too:
a.) A person who needs.
b.) A fella who bleeds.
c.) A person whose
I forget that I matter too.

So I ask you,
my love,
to understand
the request.

I need to love myself
a little more,
but I’ll always love you best.

The dichotomy; two;
half for me, half for you.

You see, I have memories and
people and places in my mind,
of the places I’ve been
and the things that I’ve seen.

Beads of water fall down the
window of a car on a road.
They whip into solid-water trails,
The faster the car goes.

Hot chocolate after snowball-fight fun.
Marshmallows melting like art.
Half made with hands,
Half with heart.

I need half of my heart;
I need to be allowed to have a history.
I need to own “back then”
so I can continue telling this story.

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