your marmalade

My heart is a ‘marmalade’

You eat it with bread – you don’t need jam

My heart is a parachute

You put ears on both sides, 

it hates the screeching sound of the wind 

yet it can’t fly without it

My heart is a captain black cigar

The puff I see spreading in the line

 that surrounds the pupil in your eye

It turns your pupil to a place, 

which can hold an ocean of suns

A desert of tears

A vision that knows only sight, 

it crosses your skin

And sleeps with lights on, in you

My heart is my heart

you eat it with bread

warm, bread...