The Human Heart

What is it

that makes my palm

crave curling

to the slope

your neck cradling the back

of your head?

How is it 

that you hear the slightest

nuance in my voice,

the tiniest pause

when I hesitate?

How can know me so well?

Why is it that when

your arm secures me 

and  we are folded

together like 

a cozy pair of shoes

snug in the shoebox

it seems as though

there never was a time

that our hearts hadn’t

met and danced

and our minds

galloped wildly

and our spirits merged

in such a splendid


a radiant cantata

lilting from the 

human heart?


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