I tuck the people I meet into hidden parts of myself and they get lost;
preserving their goodness in me like flower petals hidden in a book.
They are pressed perfectly in time this way
and in so doing I am unable to hold onto the ugly.
I see only the parts of them that are fragile, angelic and delicate-
and I keep nothing of them other than the impression they left when they first impacted me
I did not realize the danger of seeing beauty where it does not belong
until I found it making a home inside my heart
–when does compassion become naivety