They tell you: never wear your heart on your sleeve,
Because you never bring to the surface
Something meant to be encased in bone.
You ignore them.
How else will he know
About the thunderstorms that roll into your chest
Whenever he lights the cosmic of all smiles?
So you pin his name onto your clothes,
And you look at him like you love no other.
There’s a heart on your sleeve and you hope there’s one on his too.
They tell you: never release the birds in your lungs,
Because you’re already drowning ten different ways,
And you just don’t save someone else before you save yourself.
You just laugh.
He has been the oxygen in your atmosphere
Since the day you touched his hand.
So you open the cage of your ribs,
And you let him steal your breath away.
The magpies beat their wings and peck at his cheek.
They tell you: never let someone reside in your thoughts,
Because the moment you lose your mind
Is the moment you lose yourself.
You say, too late.
He’s already deep within your bones,
And he’s the only reason why you’re up on your own two feet.
So you let him build the foundations,
And lay down the roofing.
He makes a home out of you, and you beg the universe he decides to stay.
He doesn’t.
They tell you: never wear your heart on your sleeve.
You laugh, you cry, you look at the sun.
You wear your heart on your sleeve.
[Seventy Years of Sleep: SteveBucky # 4
by n.t. (nikka ursula)
found at her blog cardiamachina]
