Her heart is sitting on a shelf most days.
It looks around and makes a few wishes,
Taking time to contemplate all the ways
Of how good life can be as it swishes
By unconcerned with how long it takes
To see around the corners and become
Something like the wish she makes
As the shelf begins to feel like home.
And nothing is quite the same again
And she see this and must pretend
That everything is fine
Even when it is not.
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