Tell me everything

I remember opening and closing
the door to my heart to practice leaving

I feel that hearts are like vegetation
sometimes they’re green, and then they wither

we have to let them shed leaves on days
when the rain plays hard to get

they admire the fruits and dishonor the soil
he perceives the emotions of butterflies
she lets go, she lets out, she lets in
i hear she never gives in to pain
the taste, the staleness of apology is tart
i relax, learning the ways of wings and why
the best place to practice living is inside you.

leonell echa