Heart Attack

The inclination to stop breathing sits lodged in my gut,

such beauty is something I never thought existed,

this pain I welcome with open arms,

the great agony of loving her too much.

I never knew I could love so much hair attached to one person,

her limbs made of silver and eyes of roses;

she breathes in fire and huffs out soft white snowflakes,

I wish to know her thoughts,

her instincts and if she follows them.

A nose made of letters, the skin of satin and lips of silk;

Her hands. Her hands; firm, but softer than any fabric,

these hands hold you warm and tight,

they push away the nightmares,

hold up the sun and dangle the moon from a string.

My heart swells, by god, it is vibrating,

My nose is senseless only responding to her French Sephora perfume;

Her words strangle my neck,

I can’t breathe

Her fingers wrap around my gut- squeezing as hard as she can.

She holds a silver chained leash over my heart.

My friends don’t like her,

“She's talked too much!”

I could listen to her for days.

“She is too pretty- out of your league.”

But I love her, I tell them!

They believe I’m lost.

Maybe I am.