My heart
Too fragile.
Too fragile
to weather the wear and tear of this world,
it remains ensconed
in protective walls,
hidden away,
safe,
frozen,
like a rose bud.
Every once in a while,
a breath of wind flutters in
and awakens it,
and it blooms for a moment.
Morning dew adorns its petals,
until the blistering sunlight scorches it once again,
and it retreats into the safety and cool of the dark.