Once you have a heart raw in your hands,
it's easy to draw blood
it's heavy, gory,
content to be cradled
But tell me, how do you put a heart down without hurting it?
Do you store it in a drawer? Will it keep fresh for later?
Do you lay it on the grass to decompose on its own?
Or do you pass it onto the next pair of unsure hands?
Blood leaks through my digits with every tremor
I take the heart in my hands and put it back into his
It's the ghostly familiarity that hurts
The blood stains my hands and the weight tires his
I love and hate the emptiness, my arms become light and turn into wings
But I didn't ask for them and I don't know how to be grateful
On to the next blood