Breakable.

I am not gentle with the heart - 
I do not want to hold one. 
I do not long, like others, to share mine - 
To find someone to trade with. 

I want, still, to wander free. 
I do not want to claim an aching pulse, or be responsible for steady beatings -
Because who can run with so precious and delicate a thing?
I want only to roam; whole and alone.

Your heart would be too heavy a thing to carry,
When I leave. Again. 
And my own heart, yes. It would be missed, still in your grasp,
When we go our separate ways. (We will). 

You see, a heart is a difficult thing to give and then take back.
It does not move cleanly, from chest to palm to chest. 
It gets damaged in the process. Torn.

And they all say that it's worth it. But it's not.

I am not gentle with your heart.
Because I cannot hold it.
Though, desperately, I wish I could,
Choose it, instead of fear. 

S.

{Photo: Blanca García Flickr}