The L Word

“give me your heart, what does she have that i don’t?”

if but only hands were handles
on sharpened fingernail-knives
i would plunge them into my chest
and skewer my beating bleeding heart for you

if but only breasts were butter
silky-snowy-melty mountain tops
the heat of your need would move my mountains
chest yielding, melting

my heart where you want it, in your hands

there are so many ways, in theory
to give you my heart, actually
with knife hands and a chest made of butter
it’s not so hard is it?

but none of those things are possible
my fingers are strong and dexterous
but blunt, bony
my chest is supple and smooth
but caged, cartilaginous

i just wasn’t born that way

ah, but the impossible is possible with her
i swear i see the sun go down every time she closes her eyes
rising again as soon as she opens them, right on cue
the birds start to sing as soon as she takes her headphones off
i hear her name in every love song
and every colour is the colour of her eyes

it’s not fair to you, i know
how can you compete
when the sun exists just to warm her neck
and birds sing in a language only she can understand

possible doesn’t matter with her
i have walked on jupiter and swallowed scalding stars
and bent impossibility into a world for her

what does she have that you don’t?
my heart