My heartbeat was always the melody
Of the kettle in an empty kitchen.
Whenever I wanted
To pour boiling water all over my
Unblessed skin
And be baptized by hell,
You said, “Hey. Hang in there.
Don’t you dare
Hurt that sweet body I love so much.
Drink tea instead.”
So I would.
Still, my heart never stopped singing
The songs of the screaming kettle
Until you lay your
Sacred hands on my chest
And whispered, “Hey in there.
Don’t you dare
Give up on that sweet girl I love so much.”
So it wouldn’t.
And my heartbeat would be rewritten-
It would sing like
Rainstorms in spring.
You always said rainstorms in spring
Were your favorite things.
I wanted to be your favorite things-
And the things you hated most,
Because I never wanted to be
Too good to be true.
I wanted to be exactly
Your truth.
My heart sang the songs
Of the kettle in an empty kitchen
Until I met the musician
Who rewrote it all.
You
Rewrote
It all.