my heart, my heart, my heart --
how do you speak with no vocal chords?
how do you ache with so few nerve endings?
how do you move suns and moons with such small mass?*
the enchanted axe removed each limb,
one by one, bringing nick chopper down to size,
and gave him a body full of tin.
however, in attempting to heal his wounds,
the tinsmith failed to replace his heart,
and the tin woodsman was no longer
able to love the one to whom he had given his heart.
and he continued to live this way for years.
how i envy the heartless,
how i envy the ones who feel pain, but not
the pain of the heart, the pain of the soul.
there are times i want to rip my own heart out.
the gravity of such a decision
was hardly noticed, the way gravity
is hardly noticed -- a force we do not fight.
so, of course, i said it -- "i love you."
and in that moment the earth moved
beneath my feet. i felt the tilt of its axis;
i felt the weight of the world; i felt it all.
and of course, my frame was far too slight.
i felt a piercing pain, i could not move,
and i feared the worst. there are very few
maladies that cause paralysis and sharp pains
all over the mind and body. but
this was nothing new, this was nothing
i hadn't felt before. to have a heart,
to feel a heart, to know a heart,
is to feel unimaginable pain.
my own words have become my enchanted axe;
my own heart has removed each limb
and replaced them with tin. and yet my heart remains.
is that a better fate than having no heart at all?