Her heart had a defect
It couldn’t see its own face
So it searched in places that were dark
In beds that were cold
In shirts with smells of perfumes she did not wear
To find “soulmates”
And it burnt her over and over again
Until one fateful morning when the light pierced a hole in the bullshit
The hole allowed just enough love in
Enough for her to name the crime
And she danced
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Lee Mayimele - Writer 