my heart isn't beating
its dying and resurrecting itself with more volts than it takes to power a whole highstreet
a thunderstorm of rebirth-
of hope
and of faith

transmigration,
between the you I see and the you I think I see

I turned the volume down as quiet as I could,
like I was protecting a secret

like I was the one confessing
and you were the jury

before I think to press play I calm myself
control my breathing
and
read with stable, steady
dilated pupils

what you have to say

it buzzes around my chest like glowflies
and I think about your voice

and I press the button

and I feel the electricity,
the lighting bolts,
before
I fall down on my bed
while
the eye of the storm
passes over

and I can't stop smiling