Late Night Letter To A Friend | Early Prose Poem by Ana Maria Alma Delafuente

It is my nature to love deeply
with everything I have,
and to make myself completely open and vulnerable in that love.
Each time my love has been crushed,
I have hardened a little more than the time before.

Now, my heart is like a fist of dried up blood,
encapsulated by thick calluses of ice,
faintly crying to be melted
so that it can rush, and flow strong with warmth again.

Was I born under the wrong star?
Am I meant to never experience the lasting, loving relationship I have always longed for?