v u l v a l i c i o u s
tender hearts club
my heart is a tender thing, worn ragged. left open and out in the rain. sodden, a bit of a mess.
there is earth all mounded up, mushroom colonies with red caps, moss growing so green: it looks like a cartoon, all together. my heart is at the center.
i want to have it burst with seeds, release a flurry of little pods. i want you to have a piece, and you, and you. just carry me with you, one small piece of this messy heart of mine. blood in your pocket, maybe just a little. or the ooze of life, anyway, milky white and sweet.
hearts are messy. mine tears, crushes, not breaks. i am never glass so much as a fabric, soil, something that was in the ground at some time.
for a while i wore a locket around my neck, a picture inside that said: i am green.
a tender shoot, a fresh pod, delicate, hungry. i am open, open, looking for the sun and wondering how i got here. little heart, so soft. going forth to multiply.