Not like a dainty butterfly,
but like a buzzing humming bird.
It’s so obsessive it’s irritating.
Yet it keeps me afloat as I taste
the sweet
bitterness of life,
as I wonder beyond the blue openness
and set my sights nowhere.
My heart pounds.
Not like acts of pent up emotions,
but like a covetous husband with the
rhythm of ardor.
It’s so possessive it bruises me.
Yet it keeps me grounded as I taste
the passionate
acidity of love,
as I wonder beyond the red openness
and set my soul nowhere else.
My heart skips.
Not like the rational lady I try to
show,
but like the silly child he brings
out.
My heart bares.
Not like the insecure girl I try to
hide,
but like the brave woman he
sees.
My heart loves
because of him.
My heart loves
because of what he is.
My heart loves
because of what he does.
My heart loves
because of how he loves me.
