as a kid, i never really knew
what the heart had to do with love. like, love is this ::
(big)
/warm/
{bea.utiful} thing, but our hearts are these ****** hunks of meat that sit beneath our ribs and get that [blue/red] substance through your bones.

(where the **** did it come from, that idiotic interpretation of an emotion? why tie it to something so repuls i ve?)

you tell me your heart was skippin' right out'a your chest and all the way to north of philly an' back, i'd laugh in your face and tell you that love came from your brain, not your adrenaline-flushed ::heart::. i'd say it like the ****** little ten-year-old ***** i was, and i'd make you believe me, too.

but, honestly, that hidden truth has finally snuck up under my eyelids and permeated -yes, i know
and i mean it- my heart.

i know now that love is responsible for mending your heart or breaking it or filling it to the brim or speeding it up or making it skip a beat or drop to your curled or thud gently against someone else's bare skin and, jesus, it's kinda ******* beautiful once i actually think about it. like, a simple emotion has the power to tug apart and lead the pieces out (single file, mind you) one by one.