Imaginary Hearts

Picture this!

Teeth sharpened to triangles.

Finger nails sharp as razor blades.

The fork and knife remain on the table.

As she tears apart and devours the heart.

A bloody dinner plate.

Blood slipping down her chin.

She's never looked more attractive...

No wait, imagine!

Her laughing.

I love that smile.

When I ask her out.

A poem on white paper.

Ink seeping.

As rain pours.

The screen door closes in my face.

My chest feels hollow.

As a pool of red forms at my feet.

Or how about?

Gorgeous tall heels.

Piercing.

Poking a hole through.

The pulmonary.

The right ventricle.

Twisting.

It deflates.

As blood gushes out the other side.

Mama always warned me,

About getting myself hurt,

It seems I have a tendency...

And yet my preacher.

With a southern accent,

coming from the speaker,

speaks to me amongst banjo scriptures...

And gives me a truth I need to hear.

That I must love

like there is no such thing as a broken heart.