Poetry

Cracked Whole
05.12.2012

When my heart cracks open,
I long for you to come tend it
with a salve of warm tears
and soothing words,
to draw it out of my burning chest
and take it as your own,
to go away and leave me alone
as I curl up in the corner and weep,
wondering, afraid and weary,
to call in the troops of healers and gods
that will make everything better,
remind me what it is to be whole,
tell me that everything is
going to be okay.
I long for your hands to contain
the unfamiliar sentiments that
seep slowly through the fissures and fractures,
to quietly sweep me away from
this strange, insistent emergence that
has a flash of the familiar,
to sit in silence with me as I
smolder and shake, writhe and wail
in the wake of sensation that
came with that very first crack,
to pull me to the side of the road
as my eyes close and all other senses
take the helm.
And, oh, how I long for my heart to
burst wide open,
to instantly thwart this design of
spidering fault lines and arrhythmic tremors,
to instigate the break of all breaks,
a quake of immeasurable force,
of irreversible consequence,
leaving me raw and exposed,
heart full and intact, ready to crack again.

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