My Heart is a wind chime; 

May 2025 (♊︎)

[6 minute read]

my heart has these composition notebook holes and spirals

very mazed metal barbed wire-like

almost like it’s been poked again and again by straws,

my heart play doh

and every time i reach for her i take an empty drink

the container which purpose is to look interesting but not really hold much

i don’t seek sustenance, just warm contact; my lips press onto her visual worthlessness

if i put my mind to it i can braid these spiraling wires with my teeth

give it some time bringing in a new look with more color from my sliced gums

i’ll brave it

but she does not appreciate my intimacy,

my delusional foreplay

when tears wet my cheeks, my heart is always wetter

she glistens through my blurred vision as if important to my inventory

i have to take a moment to understand it’s no competition ⎯ her beauty

when she ignores me, i have to take a moment to understand its not personal ⎯ her boundaries

sometimes my heart is pigeon-shaped with winged eyeliner

i only remember she can take flight once something alien evades her space

our dynamics often consist of me aiming to recognize an understanding

like a conch shell i blow into her

she grows big like a balloon silently

my wind gives her an internal hug

in our most closeness, we remain distant/distance

i am always alert for the day she speaks her mind/ or lets me know

her function is alien to me, evades sense in my world

but only because i let it; i give her space to

no instructions manual, we were both born at the hip ⎯ conjoined twins

raw-dogging the gift of life in unison

she breaks eye-contact always, showing me her waterproof winged eyeliner

i find myself facing her peripheral often. maybe i’m an afterthought

always unsure but near, i have all the time for it

can’t escape each-other, i think we were both forged to make it work.

i am Majesty of enduring inescapable one-sided misunderstandings

smirking through it all ⎯ can’t believe this is my life!

my heart sometimes lulls rather than beats

she hums like a dusty generator

delivering me bed-time stories

i turn her on and off again like a light switch

i play at my chest like it’s open operation

i have the keys, i can come and go as i please

she doesn’t agree with me tho. i question all the parts of her when she’s done

the universe tries to convince me that she is my guidance system, my surveyor

but i only ever feel her pull when i am done dancing

her subtle lulls when i operate

her hum when i sleep

i’m not sure if she’s contempt with my being here

like a mother-tree i want her to                        grow                 off              of                                  me

be singular,

evident in change

judge me from afar, pigeon bird-eye view me please

but our differences chain us together, and its something i’ve grown to admire

we communicate in silence, in our ignoring of each other

maybe i do love her ⎯

can’t gett her peculiar matter out of my mind

i dream about our potential. i feel ashamed when i find myself beside her in unison like we finally made peace

[she would think it a nightmare so i keep this to myself, though she moves like she knows anyway 🙄]

i’l spend my whole life understanding her functions and equations like i’ve been born to unlock secrets of the universe

craving her clarity

we are in a locked and key thrown away relationship. only its not so hot

i have to wait for the day she sees me and not tolerates. the dust will encase me by then

maybe i will finally understand her and how she disagrees with me so indirectly

but alludes often how time has no place for inaction

i take a blade, sawing and giving her my tongue

she could use it more than i

i’m begging her to challenge my range of understanding

i’m desperate for conversation, even if it ends in a stubborn stasis

but she doesn’t understand me without my proverbial worries, not even my hands are enough to identify my intentions

i think this dynamic is healthier.

no need to convey my doubts or verbalize my confusion

not like she listened anyway

and not like she’s going to chime in at all

i think we both seem to glisten at night from our wetness

and during the day we react to the breeze of life

all i can make now is a gentle noise for her and me

i am indebted to her faulty decisions so i refuse to hide

and whenever she takes flight next, i hear the song internally and i’ll always follow

my heart is a broken wind chime and i am the ears that hear its broken desires

Christmas lists eaten by a dog, i sense its written plans tucked between horizontal intestines

i recite its contents in a whisper because she’s always napping and i’m always forgetting

maybe someday we can make music together, mending sound. researching frequency