heart

i hold your heart in the palm of my hand; i admire the pulsing crimson life-force flowing through the network of veins, tinted, just as stained glass when the light hits it at the right spot. luminescent skin reveals deep, blue-black flesh throbbing with hidden whispers and secrets unknown to any man, ivory white tendons, worn and torn, just as the foundations of a fortress holding up the bruised chambers of the castle of your heart. feeling the fullness of your flesh in the warm embrace of my digits, a shadow flickers, and i wrench my palm closed, bringing everything to dust.