I put my heart on hold
long ago.
I don’t remember the signs,
it’s a foreign land.
People don’t understand
when they see me emotionless,
how hard it is to pretend
to be one of them.

When I don’t know
where I am,
I hum a little song
to myself,
never deal with anything
too personal,
now that I can get away
from my folks.

The clock I’d stopped
does grind
so loudly
in my mind.
Need to let the cold
seeping in,
for the chance
to make some friends.

Still so afraid
of losing the ones I love,
or that I can’t
help them enough.
Can I take it now?
My disappointment
with myself?

I put my heart on hold.
My place is vacant
and my eyes are cold.
I feel safely mechanical.
But I can’t run free,
without my heart whole.

Was it something I had done?
Or part of me I have to accept?
Who do I go for advice?
When nobody knows who I am?

I have to unpause.
Have to face the spot.
Name the things I can’t change
and bring them back home.

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