My Heart
What is it about love and poetry that makes it seem divine?,
What is it about heartbreak and music that makes me want to feel it?,
What is it about anger and paintings that makes it appear so beautiful?.
Because I lack the metaphors to explain my affection,
Because I lack the melodies to communicate my affliction,
Because I lack the skills to express my aggression,
So what do I do?
I put pen to paper and I scribble,
Circles and cycles,
That illustrate my deepest emotions,
Like a black hole made of blue ink,
Puncture my pages and make the ink leak,
Stains on my palm like blood,
Feeling it would feel better if it actually was.
So if there was a metaphor to define my emotions,
I'd say a love song,
Smooth enough to usher in the vibes,
Easy on me enough to carry me through this hard hell,
I'd say an artwork,
Beautiful enough to call its God's creation,
I'd say a sonnet
Fourteen lines with a rhyme scheme, a pivot and a dramatic change.
But really no work of art can describe my heart,
Because my heart is my art,
And I am undescribable.
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