Cut me open— sore; I probably
couldn't help myself but swear.
I swore.
In the half-life, I would be the other
half to her heart. But I'm only a piece
of wood, chipping away, the changing
half of my product bride.
I bought you to love;
and look at all this fruit growing from
our garden. Though there was a lion
there, guarding.
Fingers lost in your hair, my hand
brushing around your eyes to see me
better. Round those eyes, you cut me
open to find my heart.
I threw up my fears—
and watched parts of me soar.