As it turns out,
the hole in my heart is quite literal;
a condition I can't pronounce.

Though I can still smirk at the irony.

And I do.

Privately, behind a cupped palm,
for fear that more sinister gods will smite me,
offended by the way my mouth treats their sincerity.

(I've got another new red dress.
My reflection clearly states
that I don't care what the inside looks like.)

Besides which, my organs refuse your metaphors,
reject them, if you will. Dare them with a stuck-out tongue.
I've got swiss cheese in my chest, but it pumps blood.

(I know. I've seen it.)

No matter what happens, if my lips
keep curving upward, I will always win.

02/21/2007

Posted on 02/22/2007
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair