Monday, October 19, 2015

Paper Hearts

my heart is like a piece of paper

it's mine to write on and decide its fate

i treasure it and protect it with all that i am

and then you come along

and convince me that you could take better care of it than me

or that you want to write a fairy-tale or love song 

upon its veiny lines.

so i give it to you to guard, i hope, with all that you are

and sometimes it comes back a masterpiece

or a song that i love to have stuck in my head all year round

or a story i'll read over and over and pass on to my children

and their children and their children's children

(if i live that long)

but sometimes you throw it back in my face

or crumple it up in a tiny hard wad

or let the little shreds of fiber mingle with my tears as you leave,

and that hurts, because I trusted you.

but sometimes it never comes back at all-

sometimes you keep it forever

and wrap it up in bubble wrap and keep it near your heart

and sing to me the song you've carved on its surface

when i'm old and gray and curled in your arms and we're still making out.

and this, my love, is the very best thing.

but remember, my heart is like this piece of paper- once it's given away

it never comes back

the same.