There is shattered glass on the floor of my heart,
There is pottery in my soul, broken in parts.
There are acid stains at the top of my throat,
There are pieces of dreams, written in quotes.
I have no words for your embrace,
No description for the safety I see in your face.
As you measure my heartbeat in iambic pentameter,
My breath is in cut-time, your words ever-sweeter.
Your fingers are the ivory I used to play each morning,
Your hands are gentleness, contrasted with warning.
Your mouth flows with the water of the entities,
But your heart is full of mismatched identities.
I lost my first love to a shot to the wrist,
I lost my second love to a concussion and a fist,
I lost my third love to words unspoken,
I’ll lose my fourth love to promises broken.