The stuff of bliss
keep it
in your breast.

The stuff that makes you thunder with laughter
when you fall or dampen or **** or burp;
the stuff that makes you spread your lips
when they kiss you;
the stuff that makes your priorities
surround sneaking out to see the moon
or desiring to blister in the sun just to have a touch of another land;
the magic that means you don't take life
seriously at all;
that makes you cry, laugh and scream with anger.

keep the magic that makes you express
pound against your ribs, under your breast.
until it dies with you.