My Paper Heart

You write such beautiful, angry words,
imagining wonders into existence.
You cut this page into neat, even thirds,
making your cookie-cutter stanzas consistent.

It's no longer about loving you, is it?
You just want it all. You just want the world.
You're waiting for your paper heart to sit
calmly, but the pen in your hand leaves it swirled

Writing this letter to yourself
is like waiting for rain to fall in a drought.
You took her knife off the shelf,
but your paper heart remembers what love is about.