If I were to tell you that my heart was putty in your hands
would you mold it to fit yours?
Or would you mash it flat, pound it into the table
drop it on the ground to pick up all the detritus
you walked through before?
If I were to tell you that I don’t know if I can get close
would you live and let live, trusting that I will find my way home?
Or would you get angry that you cannot possess all of me at once
On your terms?