Buried

It’s buried.
The passion I used to wear 
on my sleeve like a poet’s heart
Buried beneath a cold and unlovely facade, 
That protects me from a world I no longer trust.

It’s buried.
The love, like a once, rosy cheeked child
Torn to soon from his mother’s warm embrace
Buried beneath earth and stone
Keeping me cold and disheartened.

It’s buried.
The trust of a young girl searching for truth
Gathered up in the arms of a magnificent lover. 
Buried beneath lies and deceit 
Bringing to me grief and cold.

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