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How could I not notice the heart on a sleeve of moss. There are usually more Heart Leaves, their roots connected and shared. But I see no others here, just the one. Maybe it’s better to be alone, and not feel what it’s like to break, to bleed. To never ache, and never need. Of course, you’d never know the glow of hope, the pulse of want. I studied the leaf…it looked strong on the face of it, but inside the color fades and the strong lines are shattered. So maybe nature betrayed it after all. For now it puts on a show. It will harden, like all of ours do. I hear the words that is life in my head. I wont speak them to the Heart Leaf, they are no consolation.
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