I keep on telling my heart
Whenever you're ready
Like a patient taking their first steps after an operation
Stitches still fresh
She beats hesitantly and I understand completely
I understand
That she may not be ready for full force love
I understand
That when she is outside my chest she bleeds all over the place
I understand
That sometimes you can do nothing but feel
She says that's what your hands are for
My fingertips trace over my body and I am always mesmerised by what I feel but at the same time
At the same time
I have yet to feel another
At the same time
I feel joy bloom in my chest too easily
I told her whenever you're ready and I draw stitches on my chest in pink ink
So I can see just what that means
A swan on my leg so I remind myself that I mate for life
So I have all the time in the world for this
But I have hungry hands that are not good and substituting for a heart
They're not good at feeling things inside me
They would rather someone else did it
They would rather I just held someone's hand so that they were less cold in winter
I keep telling them that it is warm between my thighs
They say they feel suffocated
And they're not wrong
I want to allow my heart to take all the time they need but
Time is running short
And there is no way to see that
If you're stuck inside my chest