When the heart in my chest ceased to beat
in rhythm, I expulsed it.
I dropped it in a well, as deep as you;
The water was filled to the top of it, and
my heart reattached its veins into the clear liquid
of your reflection
And it beats on its own-
this heart, reluctant to pound for me;
the sound charming the real self to move
miles before we met, guiding my pen to dance
on the page-my body a fleshy puppet to the craft, waiting
to know the author of my animation
And when we met, I felt a new thirst,
insatiable, bottomless
like the well I led you to unknowing,
and you drank the water; artery of my affection-
your lips moist as you searched for
the inkwell I put in place of my heart
And you dipped your fingers into it,
And painted on my soul with words like
Ocean and Music
as you sang the verses of the world I've never written-
not until you touched me;
not until I understood
You, the muse of my beating,
will drain my contents
dry-
leaving me enchanted;
parched, perished,
alone.
