Heart on the floor

This is for the times
when my heart wasn’t on my sleeve
but on the floor in front of you,
beating out fire while it pumped just to fan the flames.
Since you,
I’ve had digital experiences
that’ve sparked cognitive reflexes
that’re reflecting
just some of the things that I’ve been doing wrong.

I’m just trying to maintain myself
and retain some of the pieces
of who I was just minutes before you spoke
and broke the lines between laughter and tears.
And like those irrational fears
I leaped into what I thought might take me away,
or at least carry what I say
when my prayers play like poems that never needed pens,
where the paper fades lonely
until the creases crack
with that gentle touch
that was still too savage for you to pick it up off the floor.

But now words are known
and reacted to
with more meaning
than the definitions they come with.
You’ve accused me
of something like love
and it’s as if it removes the grooves of comfort,
like a distorted misconception
where the mind forgets the gestures and postures
of those who’ve stood beside you.
Because I do love you in ways without fear
where anger’s just another way
to beg, plea, or even just say
don’t leave me.

But these eyes on fire,
they need their tears just to cool down
where pupils drown
in the flow of what’s come too late
in the grip of this emotion
that could so easily become hate
I slip sideways away from what’s relayed by others
where the words are never as simple as they sound,
or are found in the places
where the case is
that our faces
hold gestures all their own.
And it’s apart from what’s shown
like reputations grown
into the forms of what contains them.

Now, my feelings shook reasoning’s
on a level that could break what’s already shattered
when I heard you moan my name
in a tone that knows there’s more
to these expressions and comprehensions.
But all I feel now is you walking away
and all I can hear are the door slams say
that enough is enough where you’ve called this bluff
with enough guff and gall that could only
make me love you even more
and won’t allow me to ignore my own mistakes.

But I love you like rivers love running,
like the tables love turning.
I love you like a need that’s never been hidden,
like the crosses I bear that keep me grinning.
I love you across spectrum’s
from the most complicated thoughts
to the most simplest of explanations
I just love you.
And beyond my capabilities
I have what I hold
and what I hold are secret superpowers
capable of the indescribable,
because it would take an army of evil villains
just to keep me from thinking of your name
and I would walk to cross countries
just to remember your frame
where the same hopes for this future
now lay distilled in the kind of bottles
that’re just waiting for the right one to drink them.

I love you like the dreams that’ve kept me dreaming
like the promise of a kiss that’s kept me beaming
and although I know that you wont come back
and all I’ll have are the things I’ll lack
I’ll still love you.

Beyond this poem being spoken,
or this paper on a table
this pen in my palm
the thoughts between my fingers
the hopes in my hands
the prayers that make me stand
to these arms that wrap and can do some of the things you cant.
When hindsight gives me these liberties
that sleep in the places that I could never conceive,
I realize why I’m not enough,
I realize why I needed this love beyond the need of keeping you
where I’m at that moment
between understanding and this beautiful plane
where people come home
just to be known and not forgotten
when that last bar-stool’s no longer calling my name,
and when I want to feel the same
as I did before you spoke,
because these are my misunderstandings
that took you leaving just to teach me
that I do have more to offer
and even prefer
not just to have,
but to be with
a real woman.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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