I ripped my heart out
then put it on your silver platter
and all you can say is
“ I’ll text you later .”

my first love was literature:

my first skipped heartbeat belonged to lazy afternoons
when i skimmed my hands over the surface of an open book,
all surface tension, skipping stones and soaring -
i could not get enough.

next was my fluttering stomach, from tempest-tossed evenings
when fiction and a flashlight were my friends
where i read of silver mountains and dreamt of golden seas -
(the best books always followed me in dreams.)

and last, my first hitched breath, stolen from moon-still nights
when i drummed my fingers across the printed words
to soak them in like moss does fresh-fallen rain -
and that was when i knew that i had fallen

deeply, irrevocably in love.

just because the star-
fish can grow its arms back does
not mean it didn't hurt.
______________

even though scars heal
and wounds fade it doesn't mean I
will forget the pain.

I look up - ten stars
Every night they shine for me,
glued on the ceiling.