GM Nostr, a poem poured out of me this morning after seeing the image below. Does it make you remember a time you might have felt this way? I don't know what the title of this poem could be. Struggling with it. #asknostr Sometimes masks are too difficult to take off, hearts are too hard to open Sometimes dreams formed in the late late hours die, killed by sharp words Sometimes wounds heal and dreams revive with time and pure, unrushed gentleness Sometimes she thinks she could wait forever for the love that sang to her, but she cries, knowing there were no promises made, just the ones she makes to herself