Friday, October 30, 2015

Chalk heart

Your heart is made of chalk
when I touch it, I am left with
powdery marks on my fingers
eroded particles of you

it might be possible that you
did not want me to have
the dust set over your veins
the ones connecting directly inside

chalk usually leads us
explaining in mired details
the way, but you do not
allow me to read the map

you know I will find a way
to draw, like with a childish
desire, my heart contents
out of the chalk marks surrounding yours

allow it or not, love it or hate it
you cannot admit these facts:
there are those whose hearts are
made of stone but softer

Your heart is made of chalk
of the gradation of those before us
those who will come after us
soft and harsh
glazed in fire.

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