my black heart

My black heart.
Unpaired, unpartnered, uninterested.
Oh, and at such a young age, the poor dear.
Surely that heart must be calloused.
Surely that heart must be broken.

My black heart
spent a lifetime
beating for other people
harder than it beat for itself.

My black heart is not
absent of color but
a secret treasure box
of the entire spectrum,
each day rediscovering some lost part of itself,
each day falling deeper and deeper in love,
each day opening wider
and flying higher.

My
black
heart
is
a
rainbow
of
wildness
right
here
in
my
own
backyard.

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