They Say A Heart Is Merely A Pump

The weight of a mans heart is barely 300grams
a woman's slightly less
and beyond the fatalistic beating
 
60-80 of those a minute
 
pumping life into the furthest reaches of the cosmos
as neuroimaging suggests connections in the human brain
link beyond that of the stars in the sky
 
I burn for your curled warmth
your breath on my face
tickling
inviting me to stare into the unknown
the abyss that stares back
 
my breath quickens
pulse races and all 300grams of me pounds
as if I am sprinting from death
as if the maelstrom of ideas I hold
are phantoms leaking out
being consumed by the simple act of holding you
cocooned in Sanskrit
hidden writings calligraphed on your skin in indelible ink
invisible to those who refuse to see beyond the surface
 
I decipher lines I want to trace out and whisper in the dark
 
scribe those words on all 300grams of my beating insanity
 
taste your taboos
kiss them
until they’re integrated
so I can help you conquer your dreams
not stand in the way and strip you of your triumph
but to shield you from wounds that would altogether be fatal if I wasn’t there...
 
I find some kind of gorgeous hunger
in the suffering of fools in love
as if a heart beating battery acid
and a mind clouded in dizzy fogs is all that matters
 
I burn for you
ache to join in the topography of your flesh
breathe your sanguine perfume
to sample a moment of awe
hair raised in shivering piloerection
 
I melt because
Aristotle believed the heart was a lamp that kept us warm
but mine surges into wildfire
whenever I read the depth of you
 
engraved in all 300grams
of my life's blood