Thursday, June 21, 2018

Canvas


I want to show you love 
Finger paint on your soul
The colors I feel when I’m with you
The ones I feel without you
Loss
Grief
Need
Release
Stroke by stroke 
Reeling
Burning
My beautiful rhythm
Words on my tongue
My night 
My music
My constellation
Encapsulating every inch of you
With the reflection of the beauty you emit
I want to finger paint upon your soul
The colors I feel,

My love

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Carapace

Content with discontentment,
Knowing I will never taste your ripening lips 
Or fill my lungs with your oxygen.
Just waiting on sidelines.
Content with discontentment 
I know every inch of you.
Your chest having never grazed my cheek,
But my fingers have tattooed their imprint on your skin 
A thousand times in my mind.
Discontent,
Knowing this gnawing at my soul will never be requited.
Content, 
Believing your soul will stretch its arms to find another.
Discontent,
Knowing it will never be mine.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

A Whole New World

After a bit of crying over the possible fates of my LGBTQ, black, Latino, Muslim, and disabled brothers and sisters, I prayed harder than I have in awhile. That a "love bomb" would drop on our new president and he would be so filled with love for the citizens of this country that he would see the extreme and immense value of everyone in this nation. That his heart would be changed toward the positive regarding civil rights, justice, the broken-hearted, the disenfranchised, and the voiceless.


I then decided to resolve to love my neighbor better, to stand up for those whose rights may hang in the balance, to show kindness to a stranger, the treat our planet as a gift and not a wastebasket.


Sunday, I will go to my incredibly inclusive evangelical church lead by my gay pastor and find some peace. Because in the end, love is greater than any fear or hate the world can dish out! Therefore collectively we people, bound by and in love, are greater than this one moment in history.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

A Night Visitor

Oh, yes! I hear you tapping at my window
Beckoning me closer 
A cool breath of impulsivity on my cheek
Tonight’s a nice night for a flight you purr.
Open the window. Dance in the stardust, my angel.
But we both know
You have all the subtlety of a Sylvia Plath novel. 
And this will end like all your other attempts—
Silenced by the dagger of my pen against your throat
Branding my defiance into the pages of your jugular: 
Dum vita est spes est!
So, come another night if you must
Entice me with belladonna’s perfume.
Enchant me with a melancholic dissonance. 
But all these gimmicks are simply 
Sequins in a tawdry floor show.
They do not stupefy or overpower me. 
You are missing the true magic:
A heart that pounds
Lungs that rise and fall in an orchestrated rhythm 
Ears that delight in children’s laughter
A nose that awaits freshly baked cookies.
You are outdone. You are outnumbered,
In this body, life abounds.
And where there is life, 
There is so much hope!

Friday, October 30, 2015

Vita

Oh my vita
To dine upon your skin
Tasting every honey dew dropped morsel of sweat 
That forges on your chest
Let me love you in Orlando
Taking flight through crisp waters
And broken waves
Making love upon bright beaches.

Ours was a gray kind of love
Seeping it's way past social morale or religious doctrine
Into the sand that wedged it's way between toes of ambiguity

With every biting crest
You relinquish sighs of guilt 
Into my lungs
And let me sustain you
With breaths of approbation

This sacred dance
Of flesh and spirit becoming one
Consecration 
Intertwined notes shaping our immortal symphony
We are music
We are the words carving Shakespeare’s sonnets
We are the the culmination of all that is pure and whole and holy

Let me be the voice to your quavering song 
Let me be the wine upon your barren lips
Taste me
Consume me

Shatter me.

Friday, July 3, 2015

The Bitch is Back


The bitch is back. Yes, that's right--my nemesis. She must have seen the bumper sticker, "ya'll can go to hell, I'm goin' to Texas," and decided it would be a nice vacation spot-- heat and all. I thought I may have heard her calling my name in the distant rumbling of thunder last week, but convinced myself it was simple paranoia. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of her insignia, like Zoro, burned out in the grass near my apartment. But, I turned my head for a second glance...and poof! It was gone. So, I thought nothing of it. Even, last week, when my husband's brakes went out, my dog was covered in infectious spots, and my son had an asthma attack all on the same day-- I just chalked it up to a rough one. I mean, everyone has those, right? However, when I walked into my new apartment this week, only to find the laundry room leaking water from a broken pipe, walls infested with mold and a bipolar air conditioning unit that couldn't decide between hot or cold air, I began to see her fingerprints everywhere.  Now I am certain she has come back like Lex Luthor on the heels of Superman, intent on nothing but my total destruction.  But I'm sorry. This week I'm not in the mood to play. This week, she has met her match. So wherever you are, Murphy Law, I hope you're ready. You're vacation's getting cut short. 'Cause, girl, I'm sending you straight back to hell!

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Beauty From Injury

I awoke in a dizzied blur, aware of nothing but searing pain and a tube lodged awkwardly down my throat. Unable to speak, tears burned my cheeks, as I played a sadistic game of charades with the nurse keeping guard over me. “What do you want, honey?” Her voice was saccharine. I gestured toward the tube. She replied, “I’m sorry, but I can’t take it out. It’s helping you breathe.” My eyes released a flood. At that moment, I didn’t give a rip about breathing; I only wanted the pain to stop…anyway possible. 

Life coaches will remind their clients, to “stay present”. I truthfully had never really thought about or experienced that level of consciousness, until this point in time. I was definitely fully present, in this moment; and believe me, there was nothing I wouldn’t give to be a million miles away from here, soaking in the euphoric drip of morphine. Instead, the recently stitched up tear in my esophagus was made irate by a ribbed piece of plastic parked haphazardly on the fresh wound.

Only a week earlier, my orthopedic surgeon had made an egregious mistake while performing a double-level cervical fusion on my spine. At some point during the surgery, his scalpel slipped, tearing a large hole in my esophagus. This wasn’t realized until a week later, when I appeared miserably in the ER, with green, gravy-like pus oozing from my suture site.

I was filled with infection and a gaping hole in my throat when they rushed me into surgery to try their hardest to remedy the mistake.  This traumatic event turned into a six month process of hard-core antibiotics, being fed through a tube in my chest,  restless nights terrorized by nightmares of dying, and at last…recovery.

I’m not so sure, whether staying present was a positive in this case. In moments where I focused on my present circumstances, fear eroded my mind. Yet, when I was able to step outside of that pain and focus on a future where this one traumatic event was given a positive purpose, then I began to thrive.
   
I know everyone has trauma in his or her life. But perhaps it is in that pain, our stories can be shared, honestly, without playing emotional-charades. In this place of vulnerability, we feel understood, and genuine human connection can occur. This is where beauty and true art emerge.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Comfortably Numb (a work in progress)

I remember the day clearly.

My hands fell flat against the cold, opaque pane of glass. Drops of condensation wept beneath them -- an action I couldn't bring myself to do. Perhaps, my hands spared me the duty. In the kitchen, pastries, lemonade, and a cake made themselves awkward guests on our kitchen counter-- an eery way of feigning happiness. They stood out, almost a joke, amidst the swatches of dark fabric filling the room-- except for my mother of course.

 She, drew everyone's eye in her vibrant, red, A-line dress. Her breasts struggled to stay inside the black, lace boundary that contained them. It was my father's favorite dress, undoubtably for this very reason. Mamacita, I remember him whispering into her ear as he would slowly kiss the back of her neck, running his hands down the lines of her body, enveloping her waist like a glove. Ooh, gross! I would turn my head, pretending to be embarrassed by the affection. But secretly I loved it, and would give anything in the world to see that sight at this moment--to simply put an end to all of this.

My mother informed the guests to follow suit with her color choice. Dress in color, celebrating his life. It's what he would have wanted, she smiled through the tears of every phone call she madeAfter about the fifth call, I ran upstairs and pulled the covers over my head, knowing at any moment my father would walk through that door and all this nonsense would be over. Only a couple of people complied with my mother's wishes of vibrancy. Most, however, fell in line with old Catholic tradition. This, however, didn't seem to sway my mother. She kept to her script.

She was comfortable with scripts. Every evening before tucking me in she would tell me a story of a beautiful female angel who fell in love with a mortal male. The day came when it was her beloved's time to die. She cried out for God to save him, refusing her heavenly duty of escorting him to the other side. God answered her prayer, but at a heavy price. She was cast from heaven and made human, never more to use her gifts of the heavenly realm. However for her, it was worth the sacrifice--the promise of growing old wrapped in her beloved's arms, exploring the Earth hand in hand.

The night my mother told me the news of the explosion, I had a dream she was that angel -- sacrificing herself for my father.

She had ended each of our nightly sessions with a lullaby she had crafted only for me. Now this is our secret song, she warned me with a lovely warmth to her voice. Don't sing it to anyone else. Not even daddy. I curled my pinky around hers and she kissed it gently, sealing the promise.

Today I broke that promise. Like a dog waiting for its owner's return, I pressed my face against the window by the front door, whispering the lyrics she taught me under my breath. I pictured myself curled up beside my father, singing him our lullaby- hoping he might hear them and find his way home: My little angel, sent from above. Whenever you need me, you'll find a heart filled with love, I breathed into the glass by the front window, leaving a circular pattern that faded as quickly as it came.

to be continued...





Monday, December 29, 2014

I loved you yesterday


I loved you yesterday


But somewhere between polished fingernails

Laced with painted cherry blossoms and

Scabbed feet watermarked by Monet's Water Lilies,

My heart ceased to beat--

A heart that once rushed to life

With each golden sunset reflected in your eyes

And every moss stained rock leading to high places.

I knowingly set it on that trail

Awaiting the tread marks of your boots

Or the stab of the pointed satin slipper.

Oh God! Something to make it alive!!

But it only lay there

Trampled and scarred--

Too weak to breathe its rose watered oxygen...


Until he came

With Christmas bells and slow dances by firelight

The smell of pine needles lingering on my skin

And his rich coffee laden vibrato

Humming deep within my chest.

Amid whispers of orange trees and blue skies,

My heart took its first sips of life

Reminding me of what I was missing...

Reminding me of what had been there all along.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Tread

Branded skin
Oil of the moon
I painted the sky with pieces of you.
Dazzled lips...undressed rubies.
Bones crushed beneath 
The weight of words unspoken.
Shadowed treads across the heart
Deep within the swamps of murky kisses 
Entangled in an embrace 
That left us drowning
Ripping and clawing 
Our way toward freedom
We pushed the other under the mire,
To gasp for air.

Was it worth it in the end, 
Oh my darling of sirens?
To heed the call 
Of a melody so enchanting?

In a canvas somewhere
Lay pieces of us 
Painted with the oil of the moon.
The bluest of skies.
Branded skin.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Taste

Guardian of my past and future 
My world has imploded
I watch as you bathe languidly in my destiny.
If I’m your beloved,
Caress me with whispers of a secret language
Only we two share.
Fill me with tender kisses,
Till I’m drowning in the grasp of your love 
The incandescent beauty of two becoming one.
Crawl beneath my skin and pour
The fragrance of your spirit
Into every ruptured and scarred artery
Of my soul.
Until I’ve tasted the very last drop of its fruit
And know
You are good.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Irreplaceable

If I could take your pain and freeze it in time, 
I would journey to the ends of the earth and bury it deep beneath the final ocean wave,
Where it could never again singe your skin or drain breath from your lungs
Steal sunlight from your eyes.
Your eyes -- I would fill them with diamonds
So your joy sparkled in the light of day
And when evening came, your starlight was a beacon for the wayward soul.
The dark of night would no longer be needed for asylum
The glare of morning could not sear your tender heart.
The truth is, you deserve far more than I could ever give.
You are prized far more than diamonds, moonlight, or daybreak.
You are the reason oceans roar, lungs gasp, hearts beat.
Without you, children would cease to laugh, feet would cease to dance…
The stars would fade from the sky.
You are irreplaceable, my friend
You are HIS.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Shattered




Perforated lines,
Like the return portion of a bill.
Fold and rip along the tiny dots --
That is my heart, now.

I kissed you on the eyes that day -
While they were drawn closed.
It felt like warm sun rays to my air conditioned soul.

I poured out all the love I had left
In that one kiss.
Feeling as small as a child, 
Awkwardly overfilling a
Cup of lemonade.

It still wasn’t enough,
To make you laugh.
To make me change.
To save us from this.

I poured,
You drank.

You drank.
I poured...

Until my hands began to weaken
From the weight of the glass.
And the pitcher 
Fell to the floor...
Shattered.

“Watch out!”
You yelled, 
Hurriedly trying to tidy my mess.

Ignoring your heed, I jumped headlong toward you,
Hanging onto the cuffs of your pants.
Baring my feet to the shards beneath them.

Bleeding, I felt your arms sweep down to save me.
Ready to carry me to safety.
A dance, we knew by heart.
I jump,
You save.

You save,
I jump...

But today
It isn’t enough.
To make me safe.
To make you change.
To deliver us from this. 

Your arms begin to shake 
From the weight of anchors 
Tied to my soles.

And finally,
I fall. 
To the floor...

Shattered. 

Friday, September 6, 2013

Flatlined


Flatlined.
That’s what we are
No initiation on either of our parts 
To revive or extinguish
To enkindle or deaden
No movement
Up or down
Toward or away from the other.
Instead,
We’ve chosen stasis...
Denial.
Too afraid that if we bend to touch the other's heart
The uncomfortable shock of 
Chaos will ensue.
Yet, if I'm forced between chaos and this mental torpor with you,
I must choose chaos.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Zero Scaping of the Heart


My heartbeat quickened with the noise of curses spinning in my head
Wanting nothing more than to purge these thoughts and you from my mind.
Instead I stay quiet and quickly feel tears burn my eyes.
Eyes that you once said created the most beautiful color of green 
When stained by those liquid marks of grief.
Is any part of me beautiful to you anymore?
Gutted and bare I lay before you,
Knowing I am not enough 
And realizing perhaps I never will be.
Accents of empty promises and self delusion decorate our happy home.
As long as the exterior is painted nicely
With flower beds and white picket fences,
Creating the perfect veneer for the debris inside,
No one will ever be the wiser, will they?
Especially not us.
Like monkeys in cages, 
We were so accustomed to the stench and mess
That neither one of us could smell or rid our humble abode of this fetor...
Until now...
The smell is apparent and abhorrent.
And we both finally acknowledge it.
Can this be saved?
Or is there now so much destruction, 
The only choice left is tearing it to the ground?

Monday, August 26, 2013

Flight of the Aspen: A Sequel to "The Aspen"






Breathe me in. 
Take me to our secret place, where pain evades us. Where love is paramount.
The golden shimmer of the aspen call to my soul.
They comfort me at the height of this place and seem to sing a melody of triumph to one another.
I reach out and catch a fallen note, holding it close to my chest, pushing it deep inside -- a key, for a time when I will need it most.
For a day when I will no longer hear the music. --The Aspen September, 2011


Is it time to say goodbye
When every right turn leads left?
When every dance becomes an unsyncopated nightmare?
When the rhythm has left your feet and the music has left your lungs?
My hands tremble at the thought of this new journey before me.
Not knowing if I’m running or becoming...
Something new.
I want to explore the unchartered territory within my veins.
But how do I know if I’m running toward my next adventure or simply escaping?

In my cocoon of hibernation I hear a faint but familiar sound outside.
Within moments, I feel my heart quickening.
I look down to find a diode of red, radiating from my chest.
As I reach to examine the foreign emission,
It unexpectedly bursts into a rainbow of the most brilliant colors, I’d ever witnessed -
Shades of vibrancy my eyes had never beheld.
The key! I shriek, remembering a long forgotten promise the mountains had made me.  
I scratch the surface of my skin to find the light.
With a gentle tug, attached to a ribbon, emerges a wooden key, about three inches in length and warm to the touch. 
At first glance, it resembles a key that might open the antique door of an historic home.
Yet, as I look again, golden leaves begin to sprout from the key’s bow.
I know I must move quickly before the key is enshrouded by leaves and bark--
And my chance for a new beginning is overgrown...misshapen...gone. 
If the time for the key is now, there must be a keyhole somewhere close, I reason. 
At the top of my entrapment, I see a tiny pinhole of light.
That must be it!
My fingers and the key make their way toward the only light I can see. I fumble awkwardly, as a child trying to force a square peg into a round hole. 
Twigs from the bow are growing longer and time is growing shorter for me. 
It is simply a matter of time before I will be holding a small tree, instead of the key to my freedom.
Praying, I make one last thrust at the hole above me. It slides into something. I think I found it! A perfect fit! 
My heart is pounding and I am sweating profusely as I can only guess what is waiting for me beyond this safely spun prison I had created for myself.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the latch; without warning, my cocoon breaks into a million pieces, and I am left alone... in the wilderness. The refrain is louder in this space, and with a smile, I finally recall its source...  (to be continued)








Wednesday, August 21, 2013

The Real Chronicles of Humpty Dumpty


The Real Chronicles of Humpty Dumpty --- (a work in progress)

I’m sure you’ve all heard of Humpty Dumpty, that infamous egg who took a tumble off of a wall no taller than a story high, but the tale has lived on and on through various accounts, often muddled by political activists or a well intended author, looking for an indentifiable character that the reader might be able to relate to, and the true story has never been relayed.
But looking back over such figments of ones imagination, can one person honestly tell me that a story about an egg with human characteristics, makes much sense at all, unless for decades upon decades the readers of this beloved tale were indeed lied to.

I was there the day Humpy Dumpty arrived and I was there on that fateful day when Humpty’s egg was shattered. And, people, I am ready to set an end to all this silly gossip and malingering, and set the story of his malicious behavior straight.

Who am I? I am Gertrude, very proud mother to 15 dodo birds, grand mamma to 7 grand dodos, and great grand mamma to, well let’s just not go there.  Very proud indeed I was back then. But I must tell you quite honestly that Humpty is a fraud who ruined my life and the lives of my entire species.

I was there when he first mysteriously arrived on my wall. You see, I was in my second season of a nesting phase busy using whatever piece of paper necessary, including bits of children’s story books, to create a home for my nestlings. When in flies a stork with a very mysterious package. The stork told me this was the last Dumpty on the face of the planet, and asked me kindly to care for him as he hatched.

I had never heard of a Dumpty.

And as a proud mamma to be, I said... “No, do I look stupid?” I have six dodo’s on the way and there is no possible way I could possibly stand to care for a seventh, even if he was the last of his kind (kind of ironic, now that I think of it). But the stork just left him up on my wall. And I have to admit, after a couple of nights I began to feel sorry for him.  Stuck in that oversized egg with no one to give him the love that only a real mother could. So, as I prepared my own nest, I began using leftover bits of tree limbs and paper, hoping that might shelter him from some of the storms and the wild cats who prowled the night hours. There were even times, when I would cover his unhatched shell with my body, hoping the extra warmth might give him the added boost he needed to go ahead and hatch, before my little ones arrived. But the only boost that added warmth seemed to give Humpty was a boost in size; and before long that egg was the size of a human child. 

Well, by then, he had become the talk of the town. All the townspeople gathered around to see this larger than life egg. One of the kingsmen came meandering down one day insisting the egg be cracked right then and there, so that a royal sized omelet might be made for the king and queen. I almost wish I had let him, but no my motherly instinct had to take over, and I guarded Humpty with my life.

I could no longer hold out for Humpty to hatch and I finally gave birth to 6 beautiful dodo birds. Meanwhile, Humpty stayed stuck in his egg.

At this point, I could no longer stand it, and I screamed, “Humpty, if you are going to be a part of this family, you are going to have to come out of your shell and see what the real world looks like.” And not but a moment later, did I hear, one crack then a foot emerged, a second crack then another foot emerged, a third and fourth cracks and arms were right there in front of my eyes. But this instantly became a huge problem for me, for as soon as Humpty’s appendages appeared, he began to move them around like Frankenstein’s monster. He swatted at everything around him as a grown man might swat at bees. And with one sad blow he hit my nest full of baby birds, and down the whole nest went, all of them landing on their heads. Well, I couldn’t fly, and neither could my babies. I tried to claw my way down the wall to rescue them, but my footing slipped each time. Since, Humpty had created this problem, it was time for him to solve it. By this time he was around 6 feet tall, taller than the wall. With his new appendages, he could easily make it down the wall and rescue my children. WIth all I had done to protect him, I thought he owed me that much. He agreed. But there was one problem, he couldn’t possibly see where he was going without eyes. So, I used my beak to peck out holes where I thought his eyes probably were, and a large smile, for mouth. If he wouldn’t come out of his shell, at least now he could see and talk and we could communicate. But as soon as he got a glimpse of the outside world, he froze and let out a bloodcurdling scream. “NO!!! I can’t,” he whined. I tried to reason with him, telling him that he couldn’t possibly hurt himself by falling a distance shorter than he. I begged him, stating that my children were much to young and couldn’t possibly survive down there by themselves. All he needed to do was simply walk down the wall and hand my children back up to me. Or if that was too difficult he could simply take me down the wall with him, and reunite me with my children. But he wouldn’t listen to reason. He covered his ears and began to wail. “What do you need them for, when you have me, the greatest egg in the world?” he exclaimed. For someone so full of fear, he had a big head. I decided if he wouldn’t help me, I would do this on my own. My children’s lives were at stake. So, I climbed down the nearby dodo tree, pecking grooves for beak and claw holds. After hours of climbing, I reached the bottom, only to find my children being carted away in a pen by one of the king’s men...

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

The Ache

I catch your gaze from across the room.
You smile.
Drawing myself within inches of you,
I look deep into the variation of blues stamped on your iris -
Studying them as if it was the first time we met. I now realize my breathing has become labored,
And my face is flushed. Sitting close enough to feel your warmth makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
With a solicitous smile, I pray you read my mind and make the next move:

To feel your hands,
Untempered and unrestrained-
Caressing.
Skin singing,
Brain reeling,
Eyes filled with uncensored hunger.
Your smile buried in my lips.
Like finding a treasure in the sweetness of a honey suckle,
Your tongue doesn’t rest until it’s tasted every inch of my body.
Pulling for flesh,
Teeth branding skin,
A tumultuous storm of two bodies crashing together...


“What?” You give me an odd look, shattering the walls of my unspoken day dream.
I shake my head. “Nothing,“ I say,
Moving myself back and away from what I desperately want in that moment --
Afraid any excuse for lack of desire from you, will knock the wind out of me.
Trying hard to choke back tears, I ask myself,

At what point in our marriage did things fall flat -- where we became more of best friends than lovers?

I grind my teeth hoping to counteract the emptiness and feelings of rejection now present in the pit of my stomach.

“Took me going to three stores, but I got your favorite popcorn,” you smile at me, handing me a bowl of freshly popped carmel corn. “You ready to watch that movie?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, in a robotic tone, seriously disappointed that my plans of romance had been thwarted by yet another movie night.

And then, I look at you, with patches of white in your hair, and a few more lines on your face than you had when we first met; and, I wonder if there have been occasions or even years where you, too, have ached for me (the woman you first fell for, now corroded by illness)...in silence.

You put your arm around me and nuzzle closer. Kissing the top of my head, you whisper, “I love you.”
In that moment, I realize there have been a few people with whom I've had extraordinary nights of passion;
But, only one of those persons would ever drive to three different stores in search of my favorite popcorn...or to find the perfect flower for no special occasion, or make me comfort food when I am sick. This kind of person and this kind of love is hard to come by.

There are compromises in any marriage.

So tonight, if sitting cozied up next to you, eating the best popcorn, while watching the worst movie, is one of those compromises, I will gladly accept it... and consider myself blessed.

But, don't think I won't cop a feel.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

You

The day He danced over you -
A performance of perfect élan.
Every movement an architected rhythm,
As He wove you into creation.
Illustrious!



(This was written as a birthday present for a friend, but I hope it may also remind others of how important and special we all are in His sight.)

Friday, May 31, 2013

His

His steel blue eyes soaked through my skin, leaving a warmth I’d never known.
His smile, a cage of butterflies unleashed into my stomach.
His voice, a fortress for my uncertainties.
His arms, my strength, my shelter,
draping around my body like a warm quilt in winter.
His large hands, interlocking with mine, making me dainty and beautiful.
His words, a bridge to unexplored terrain and new adventures awaiting me.
His feet, joining mine to dance when the rain came.
His body, a bit worn from our travels and travails, but continuing to move forward…
Side by side.
His heart… it’s the only thing missing.
Long ago, when my heart stopped beating,
He opened my chest, and placed his heart beside mine.
Before long, new life rushed to me.
With my new found vitality, the color quickly began to drain from his cheeks.
This gift was too much!
He was dying.
There was nothing to do, but return his heart to him.
I reached inside, grasping for one strong pulse.
I maneuvered and pulled, but his heart would not budge from my body.
It was attached, as if it were my own.
I reached in for one last tug
And noticed there was not one, but two pulses…
Two heartbeats!
My own heart lay there loose and detached,
as if it were a map, guiding me…
to steel blue eyes, a smile that made my stomach turn, large, gentle hands.
I was no longer my heart’s rightful owner.
I placed it inside him, gently kissing his lips, as air and life returned to him.
My heart now belonged to him.