If My Heart...
If my heart was an insect,
It would be a beetle.
I would wish for it to be a butterfly,
But I have found it better
To be covered in skeleton
Than in powder.
If my heart was a flower,
It would be a sunflower
Instead of a rose -
Because I don't require pain or suffering
In order to love me
And I will always follow the sun.
It is easy to write nonsensical comparisons
About this heart of mine
Each line a fun little gesture
To a deeper matter
That I just cannot say.
There is a reason I write poetry.
They say I need to tell my story,
Bare my heart and my history
But instead I scribble poetry
That is messy with metaphors
And adlibbing with adverbs.
But poetry is all well and fine
When I'm the one writing it.
Sometimes I forget, that not everyone
Knows my heart
And that my heart is poetry,
A phonetic symphony
Words that express
Without the brutality.
And not everyone knows this -
And neither should they.
But sometimes,
When the messages pop up on my phone,
I will startle and brace myself
Because I know
There will be no poetry
To ease me in gently
And you may not believe this,
But my own story -
It still startles me.
And I write poetry not just for you
But also for me.
It's hard for you to hear,
It's hard for me to say.
Sometimes I feel bad for sharing,
Because what I have to say is like poison,
It makes you feel sick
But it is killing me.
My poetry is like medicinal poutice,
It eases the pain and pulls it out of me.
There we have it,
Some more poetic comparisons.
But this poem is for me
And for me alone
Because my heart is poetry
And I love poetry
Because it bespeaks beauty and passion
Grief and chaos,
It's a beautiful creation of traumas, great loves, and victories
And if I could choose something for my heart to be,
It is this.
Sometimes I just wish,
That if people are to speak of me,
They could speak in poetry
Because I am so much more
Than unmetered prose history.
