Maybe my heart is a venn diagram.
On one hand it's all nylon and lipstick,
On the other it's glitter and face paint.
One half as big as the other,
Oh bother, one half a brother, one half for father.
Maybe my right half heart has been drumming in my ear, loud and violent,
While the wrong half heart hasn't been proud, but silent.
One half compound packed storage for pretty girls, pretty sure it could love every girl in the world.
One half amused by that, but too insecure to make an impact.
Maybe my heart has reached a stalemate, where a soul mate meets in the middle.
Oh muddle, why must my brain be such a venn diagram?
On one side it's all logic and merit of who I should be,
The other another mess of fantasies of having a lover.
Maybe they meet in the middle where instinct is in sync with my heart.
But who or what will fill the middle of my heart chart is something I'm too scared to bother with.
Him or her and at what toll, and you know what? What should it matter? Let me shatter that tenuous idea of attraction that's been fighting a civil war in my head and in my heart, there is someone to love me, and whoever pronoun is, all they need to do is meet me in the middle.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
