13 heart poems

Pz-avatarby Janeen Armstrong15 Aug 2013

My heart, dumb
as a flower
blind as a blade
but with no sharp edges,
only the need
to be told
where to slice.

My heart stumbles around
like a drunk man after a party
not really wanting to leave
but too near vomiting to risk
anything but brisk night air
and someone kind
to point the way home.

Don't be reassured by
the gentle rhythm
you feel beneath my shirt
each time you place
your hand there.
My heart can only
imply fealty
with its steadfast
and letting go.

My heart is yours
you don't
want it.

My heart resents
its place
as a metaphor
for love.
It would prefer
simply a chance to pause
and rest.

My heart would like
to inform you
of its imminent

The salt spray has clouded
me with desire, a need
to fling myself from
rocks into the swelling
foam, to rush into
crevices or burst up
out of the narrow cracks
and fissures of my heart.

My heart knows
it is losing you,
it saw you flutter
away in the wind
after I pulled something
too quickly from
my pocket
that you were nestled by.

My hand would plunge
deep inside
the warm and wet
pulsing, if only it knew
how to cut through
the shield of bone
trapping my heart.

My heart, a machine
wound up tight,
spinning, locking gears
like teeth, like needles
like blades of grass
warped and fit together
just so, not caring
or noticing that
the blood inside
has run dry.

There is no satisfying crunch
or brilliant shattering
like glass
when you break my heart.
This does not
deter you.

Our wedding rings
are still in the back
of my underwear drawer
in a velvet box
tied with a red ribbon
as knotted as my heart.

When I die
I hope someone
will find their way
beneath the stones
to devour my bloody heart.