Transfiguration

Petrified, my heart
Refuses your vain entreaties
Deny the charm of your
Silver-plated words
Which do insinuate
Like cold serpents.
Give me your kiss of sin
So I may spit the poison
Into the well of your being
Which I devour —
A rapacious beast.

Valentine Heart

People say they give their hearts away
At the first date or kiss
During the nuptial vows
But I give my heart to you
Day by day
Moment by moment
Because love does not stop giving
It does stop growing or living
Just as we do —
I love you

This is the harsh truth, I’ll sugarcoat it none

Games of luck and games of chance
Flying a kite on a warm summer’s day
Are wonderful, stress-free pastimes
Those childhood modes of play.
But do not think to tinker with my heart
To take it apart and wait until I erect it again
Do not mistake an emphatic “NO” for a start
And resume those cruelest forms of trickery.
That façade that proclaims kindness is false
That smile only searches for a new toy to break
Like a self-deluded hero
You mistake a friend as a vampire to stake.
And though I loved you, and showed myself true
I love myself more, than to be treated so by you.

Infatuation

If spring follows winter
Then your eyes are the height of summer
And your lips only promise song.
Even your barbs are tender and blunted.
In anger, I still find the vulnerable shaking
Of a compassionate, easily-bruised heart
Which I once wrapped myself in on a cold, lonesome night.

Palmistry

On a wintry night, I lay my hand against your cheek
And told you a fairy tale my grandfather once read to me.
In that forgotten memory, he sparks to life once again.
A bittersweet joy rouses in my heart,
Makes rich the honey of my words,
Provokes the desire to hold you carefully in comfort;
To adore you as he simply once adored me —
That giving reserved only for children,
And although we no longer laugh so freely
I press my palm to yours
And in the silence know, our heart lines have met
And embraced each other.

Retrospective

In childhood, problems had a clear answer
And tears were soothed and clucked over
But problems of the heart grow in complexity
Tangling human beings and dredging
The murky depths of past hurts
A myriad of ways to process and organize
And still further, the choice to turn away
I will no longer blame myself for mistakes
For that was who I was
And that was the path then