My Heart Is a Violent Thing

My heart is a violent thing.

I’ve known since I was four.

It would pound blood

Into my ear when I was trying

To sleep. I thought of elephants

Invading my head.

 

Then there was the time it beat

A dent into my chest. I’ll never

Forget how it tried to flee

From a love so close at hand.

 

I remember once, it tied up my

mind in chains of spicy cologne, and

black hair, so I couldn’t walk straight

or carry a plate without dropping it.

 

It wasn’t long ago that it melted, easy

As cheese, scorching my stomach.

It still bears scars from that molten heart,

And its no wonder they haven’t spoken since.

 

My heart is a violent thing;

A seeker of instant gratification.

“My love?” it queries

“What have you done for me lately?”

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

This is good...well formed, balanced, smart, with a very proper dig at the end...

[Coyote Poetry]

Such as some woman can be. The drive and emotion can be a flowing river of passion and hunger for life. A excellent poem. I like the stories inside your poem. Woman keep men guessing. Ending was perfect.
Coyote