This thing inside me beats again
Size of a closed fist
I can’t control it.
Years of being buried under another’s name
tattoo across closed tricuspid valves.
See, he wants lazy phone calls and holding hands.
He wants sky gazing on a blanket.
He wants to ask me all the questions.
This Chicago kid with a chipped tooth smile.
Honey brown eyes, full lips…
He wants conversations about books.
He wants soft whispers.
He wants time.
I want to devour him and drown in this feeling.
Who knows if I’ll ever feel it again?
Woke up from a death like sleep.
Oh precious heart, I thought you perished in the fire.
Fleshy pink, so raw and open
No fresh dew softness
Band-Aid ripped off a cool scabbed wound.
Missing film around my heart.
I lean in.
He leans back.
Don’t turn me crazy with your silence.
You woke up
all my heart parts.