Friday, January 18, 2013

A Crooked Heart with a Crooked Door

the door to my heart
is soft and violent
and leans to the left
it's always slightly ajar
slamming loudly when the wind
whistles through my chest

if you hold my heart to your ear
you will hear the ocean
crashing onto distant shores
and the soft gurgling
of mountain streams
surrounded by over grown willow trees

opening my heart
reveals a wealth of coloured pebbles
and worn sea glass
little bits of broken shells
lined in wild rose thorns
stick to the sides
and cut your fingers

the meat tastes of peppermint
and wood smoke
traveling to a hole
in a clear limitless sky
with the dieing light of a thousand stars
stranded in the irises of my eyes

this heart feels like velvet
wrapped in crimson teeth
the colour of cat toes
slipping down the back fence
to that golden field
where the grasshoppers leaped
before my trodden feet

I close this door on you
cracked against the side of my pumping viens
this map to where I grew up
and where I ended up
you were knocking
rapping ever so gently
but you didn't really want in

you just wanted to toss
marbles in with my pebbles
rearrange my carefully shelved books
splash about in the brook
and break the branches off the willow trees
squashing crickets as you went
you wanted to cut down my fence
for firewood
and steal my cat
paint the door black
the crimson hue showing through
the sloppy brush strokes
and make a quilt
out of all that trailing velvet

the wind says I'm hollow
little droplets of garnet blood
stain the golden grass
as I go
the path before me
leading to the ocean
where I put my hands
in the mouths of sharks
and beautiful boys with soft lips
a careful lock now always
firmly placed upon
the weathered wood
of a badly painted tilting black door

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