Walking around with a broken heart

There is not much to say

Except the throat promises to burst any moment

And the chest, it’s still figuring out what to do

With all the space

Now that the heart is recoiling and shrinking

Hugging itself in the warm shower

The pretense of being loved

Despite the prickly broken-ness

The lie of laughing a little too loudly

Hoping someone will understand

That the damn joke is just not funny

Walking around with a broken heart

Like carrying your severed arms in your mouth

Dragging your broken legs in the burning sun

Punctures, wounds that keep spilling

The pain drips like water from a cracked drain

Picking it up in glasses, you have a bag full of hurt

Trying to clean up after

the bleeding ruptures of your broken heart.

When you find yourself just an inch away from

Falling in love with someone else

Ignore the blush on your cheek, the punch in your heart

And tell your friends as genuinely as you can

That this is just the natural human curiosity to want to know another human

To want to crawl under her skin and look at the world the way she does

To want to see if the water tastes any different, when you take a sip

from her glass; To check if your heart can still skip a beat;

A test to see if it can break again, after years of being protected;

Her eyes dare you every day to embrace a fire

To enjoy it even when it threatens to burn you;

It’s been years, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to ache

For somebody else’s touch;

You know her so well, you can complete her sentences

And now the delicious feeling of being startled by an unexpected

Gesture, remark, characteristic, joke

The excitement of peeling off the layers, of discovering a new person,

She’s beautiful, isn’t she?

But inside of you there will be electricity,

Nothing but panic flowing through your blood

The heart itches and pulls at your chest

Hurting your ribs as it tries to escape,

Your head hitting the Almira, the wall, missing steps

Tripping, falling, limping, crawling

Trying to get through the day

Trying to tell yourself again and again,

no, you’re not falling in love with someone else.

No you’re not.

No.

Frilly skirts, off-shoulders, v-necks

Sweaters, suits, sun-dresses

Hairbands, socks, and fancy gloves

With pockets on the tips for the fingers

so the hands continue to function freely,

padded bras, push-up bras, sports bras

boxers and panties.

Last I remember,

Dogs, cats, wild beasts

Insects, birds, flowers and trees

Were unclothed

Somewhere along the way

Humans decided

That beauty was ripping the fur

Off of our skin,

That beauty was about

How well one can hide

All that is within.

How to paint a human (on a canvas)

Your instincts will tell you

Scarless, flabless, flawless

Straight back, well-built muscles, gorgeous smile

Eyes that do not point in different directions

Shaped nails, thin nose, bouncy hair

Perky breasts, tight butt, flat tummy

Well-trimmed beard, hairless chest,

The man has to be taller than the woman.

It will terrify you to the bones

The thought of drawing

The penis, the vagina, the butthole

Pimples and punctures

And asymmetry

A leg shorter

A hand missing

Or eyes burnt with acid.

When you begin to paint your human

Question first

Your limited view of

Who you think a human is.