Holes


The last of them,

them strawberries.

Packed in a tiny box with

holes to breathe.

Is our heart packed in a life,too,then?

We need to breathe

Make holes to break

Inhibitions that strangle us.

Beliefs that enslave us.

Norms that tie us to a stone.

We need to breathe, to love, to live, to die

knowing that our heart didn’t beat for nothing.

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