jim morrison looks like you

i sit with your heart in my hands

your tendons wrap themselves

around my fingers like noodles

tremble with each staggered beat

your blood tickles my palms

it splats onto my shoes

explodes like red fireworks

i asked you if i could have it

but you were too distracted

your leg like a jackhammer, pulsing

to some silent song beating against

your eardrums

i took it as a yes when you nodded your head

to the beat. took your heart through your skin

i carried it everywhere

in bags i picked up at flea markets

the labels read fifty cents

the cargo was priceless

but it bloodied the pages of my books

and stained the crumpled maps of

all the places i wanted to go with you

you sit on a bus

reading stephen king

and glancing at the nameless faces around you

gripping the knife in your pocket

eyes are glued to the hole in your chest

like it swallowed your skin in one breath

but you don't even know it's there