Heart of Stitched Gold

I'll sit with patience

And stitch this heart by hand, again.
The scars make it tough to tie it tightly enough
But it only opens up every now and then.
These micro-tears, like microcosms,
Keep us hopeless romantics dreaming
When we should all just hope less
It's hopeless, breaking down our self esteem and...
Repetitively trying to use glitter and gold
To stitch our hearts together.
Waiting one day for the stitch to decay
But our hearts are just turning to leather.
There are still some parts, that are silk and satin
And it hurts when you drive the thread through
But that pain isn't sharp, it's cold and it's dark
Like the dull ache of an aging bruise. 
My heart, once pretty- now tattered and torn
Is looking rather disfigured and damaged 
I stop sometimes to ponder and think
Of all the times I've come through and managed. 
Maybe gold was a good pick over tin, over lead- 
Because at least it's worth the while
And it shimmers and shines when I can't seem to find
Any other reason to smile.

To Love Her

To love her, is to let her dance in the dirt

And breathe the sweet air, as her hair

Falls over her shoulders- and hold her, metaphorically

Fold her wings like paper planes to aid her fly-

Not in half to leave her die

As would a butterfly should you steal its beauty.

To love her, is to let her soak in the sunlight

And watch her skin turn golden, and holding

Her hand- not to demand she stays, rhetorically

In your ways, you ask to lift her and let her rise-

Not hold her back for rash demise

As would a shy child should you reproach her unduly.

To love her, is to watch her wish with her eyes closed

And dip her toes in the water, a daughter-

She is loved- and above, her father, historically

Taught her she is enough and you-

You cannot control her views

As would an owner own her, cruelly.

To love her, you have kissed her

Heart and not her lips.

To love her, you have grazed her

Mind and not her hips.

To love her you have simply loved

And for that she loves you incredibly.