You didn't ask me to.
But I threw my heart at you.
I stroked your ego and propped you up.
I bore my soul to you sharing the blood ink from my pen.
I was patient with your triggers and wounded words.
I saw in you magnificence that you didn't see in yourself.
I threw my heart at you
even though you didn't ask me to.
And like a ninja
you deflected it
boomeranging it back to me
slapping me in my face.
I pick up my blocked heart from the ground.
It's a little scratched and dented
but I open up my chest and stick it back in place.
Won't be long before I look for the next unsuspecting victim
to get blindsided
by my heart
spinning toward them like a Six Pointed Chinese Throwing Star.