You have just discovered your heart is not in the center of your chest. You wonder why more people do not walk with a limp.
You have not yet realized what is wrong with your gaze. Your body is an untested vessel.
You have never written a poem. Where the poems would be is soil.
You can imagine growing up, which later you will forget. You are wiser now than you will be for a long time.
You are too young to have heard the terms “manic-depression” and “homosexuality” but you are old enough to be weighed down, to one side or the other.
If you will listen to me, I will explain.
I want to tell you that you are not damned. You have been given a jar.
I want to tell you that a heart is not supposed to be centered. It is supposed to lean.
I want to tell you that there will be something left after everything that happens.
That you have to keep pouring.
