Let me see you


My heart is hurting today.

I can’t discern if it is
from pain or opening
creaky hinges that
forgot they once
belonged to beautiful
red doors.

“But it doesn’t matter”, I think,
because in the end,
it is all love:

the fear of having,
losing, deserving,
being seen,
or found

You don’t see
the heart
is an intractable

It was made
to break,
to be used until

Because those are always
the softest things.

The things that have sustained
oceans of feeling and stone.

Those are the things
one can truly love.

© Lisa Fabrega