Lost hearts lie forgotten
in spirals of molten paper
drawn on the minds of middle school
When the first cooties molted to butterflies.
Paper hearts lie in storage
at the bottom of recycling bins
and classsroom closets
and that notsosecret safe mothers keep of childrens childhood
to remind them that they too once played in the mud.
Ink hearts lie under scribbles
where the twenty something horomones
hid them. They were just a lapse
and the flavor of nastalgia we pretend not to savor.
Honest hearts lie
in sleeves where they know they are safe.
It takes its protective shell off only
when the heartbeat swells and suffocates the seams.
Then the kaleidescope wings
and the funneling antennae
take to the sky
And the multi-machina hearts viverate each other
in more natural nector untill they burst in starwater
The ink we use to draw on more pages
and wallpaper our domesticity
with unbeating Hearts.
©2014 Lex Vex
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