If your hand could reach inside my heart, what would you do with it?

My lifeline which reads with want the closer your fingers brush,

A warm palm, attentive lips,

They, too, are only an inch away

As if you may devour it whole instead

Open up the valve, Kirstie,

There what will pour out, not blood-

A lifetime of care plucked from the veins

Inside, all mine,

Would it taste good? Would you feel heaven washing into the empty of your stomach,

Or would you feel its fingers down your throat,

Forcing the goodness straight out of you?

Don’t tell me about the rush of violence

That will inject itself into you once

You’re bored of holding it,

Fill me with admiration at the way you strum the heartstrings gently,

Or at the glitter in your eyes as you

Stroke the pulsing muscle with tender love,

Gliding smoothly under your thumb,

Leaving trails of vibrant red to

Sink slow into your patterned skin-

Whatever you choose, Kirstie,

It’s all yours,

But tell me first,

Is it bitter? Is it sweet?

Would you finally be full enough?