There’s something in my chest
Growing, swelling
A disease manifesting in my heart
It latches to my nerves and infects my brain
It’s love
It overflows from my heart
Oozing through my ribs like a thick river
Of butterflies and tired words
Remembered laughs and the sound of your voice
But lately it’s a symphony of voices
A theatre full of musicians playing my heartstrings
You’re a musician baby, and so are they
I’m sick
Infected with too much love for too many people
It’s a heart transplant
But they don’t take my old heart out first
Just add more and more until they spill from my ribs
Filling every corner of me until I crack
But baby I love it
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
There’s something in my chest
Growing, swelling
A disease manifesting in my heart
It latches to my nerves and infects my brain
It’s love
It overflows from my heart
Oozing through my ribs like a thick river
Of butterflies and tired words
Remembered laughs and the sound of your voice
But lately it’s a symphony of voices
A theatre full of musicians playing my heartstrings
You’re a musician baby, and so are they
I’m sick
Infected with too much love for too many people
It’s a heart transplant
But they don’t take my old heart out first
Just add more and more until they spill from my ribs
Filling every corner of me until I crack
But baby I love it
Don't get me wrong, this is supposed to be a happy poem
