trudging across
the cobblestones
of a cottage, you
offer me of a
wretched burning
heart patched
with coal and
flowers. so like a
fool, i cradle it
like my bitter boy
with willow hair
and warm eyes,
and devour it.
earthly stars well
within the seams
and butterflies flit
across your porcelain
face ; it is your sunken
heart, birth from the
crevices of calloused
hands that bore soot
and moths and
overgrown grass.
so i take another bite
and i have grown to
adore you.
