I’ve had three great loves.
Three loves that left me more shattered than I started out as
But taught me more from the gathering of pieces
Than I ever learned in classrooms.
I’ve had three great loves
And none of them have touched my lips
But rather dug their fingers through my chest
Down to where my heart was.
I remember the way their fingertips touched ventricle after ventricle
As if playing some timeless waltz
On a bop-it.
Twist itTurn itBop it.Twist itTurn itBop it.
They taught me how to beat my heart.
Both how to push the blood through it
When the only blood I had left was the black sludge at the bottom of the lake
And how to flog it.
How to open up the old wounds at the touch of a finger
And how to use that blood that came seeping from old wound reopened
How to turn it into words
And how to spit them so I seemed safer.
How to reorganize life events
So I could seem like a normal human being.
So I could seem comfortable.
I’ve had three great loves in these 22 years.
Three great loves that made me shake with anticipation when they said my name.
Three great loves who caused poem after poem
And so many half written stories.
But I was never one of their great loves.
Never a great love in anyone else’s life.
So I’m forgetting the way they taught me how to beat my heart.
I’m taking that age old waltz and turning it into a samba.
I’m erasing the poems and half finished stories
And instead rewriting poems to make myself the hero.
I am not one to be content with fingers grasping at ventricles.
I would rather he take my heart completely or not at all.
But it will be awhile yet
Till I can stand the thought of man’s hand round my heart.
So for now I shall pluck my own heart strings.
Fall in love with the person I see in the mirror.
She has had three great loves
And they have taught her many things.
But the greatest love she’ll ever know
Is between her, the girl in the mirror, and me.