a torn heart,
ripped eagerly, unwittingly,
by gentlest fingers on pretty strings,
a sweet voice
with cracks like the sidewalks
that take me home.
tears streaming,
i find that i am home,
here,
among the notes that tug at heartstrings— no,
not tug, wrench.
a closed fist over my soul,
i couldn’t escape
if i wanted to.
jailed in this floral prison,
there is nothing i want more
than to listen
as you take me
apart.