Here is my heart
Held in my hands
Not upon a pedestal
Not upon a throne

It resides there, still pumping
Provides life, gives blood
One side takes in blood
Alas, the other pathway ejects...

Tears.

Where is your heart?
What you've guarded so soundly?
It is of pure redness
Health and beautiful
What pain has ever beset it?
What tragedy has ever strained it?
Has it ever skipped a beat?
Forgot to pump, to breathe, to live?

I show you my heart
Upon my outstretched hand
Looking upon you with an angled face
Out of the side of my eyes
Looking with contempt and jealousy
Because your heart knows not of strain

So look!  Into my heart!
The blood and tears dripping!
Through my fingers...
The stitches down and around,
The patches all over
The large portion of it missing
The part of it that's blue,
And green,
And black...

You cannot look at my own heart
And tell what pain and strain is...
I have felt rejections
On all levels of love.

I have never guarded my heart
It is true:
It is better to have loved and lost
Than to never have loved at all

And yet you'd dare not look inside it
How could such horror contain benevolence?

Yet there is more there
Than anyone has ever seen.