dry kisses (8/20/16)

I have something they call

a melted heart.

A vicious form that glides through my chest,

sliding through a vacant cavity,

never sticking,

never committing.

Long ago, this heart was solid,

secure in its skeletal home,

in its protected castle.

It used to open its gates

letting others see its whole

smooth,

hard candy surface.

Sweet to the tongue,

and warm.

A taste that left roses,

red,

on your cheeks.

But flowers wilt and fade,

melting back into the earth

where nothing

nothing but the dirt of their toes

remain.

Deep within my chest,

now,

are the tendrils of once was.

The petrified roots,

soured with poison,

dead, but remaining.

Try to brush your lips against it,

try.

And feel the thorny bristle that’s replaced

the softness,

A dull notes that whispers a soft negation.

Please,

no.