I want to go back into the woods,
Recover what treasure I buried there,
And hold it close to my chest.
So that I may feel its pulse
next to my breast,
And know that it is real.
So that I can twine my fingers round,
it is safe; and so am I.
I don't want to be without it,
I want to keep it on my nightstand,
let it collect the dust of forgetfulness.
And move on.
Out of sight, out of mind-
Doesn't work so well with me.
I need to keep it close,
make it a part of me.
Then discard it, once I have known it
completely.
I can't do that though,
No matter how hard I try.
Your heart must remain
buried in the woods,
So I can cherish it from afar.
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