i'm a poet at heart,
but i don't even know where my heart is.
it isn't in my chest.
go ahead and press your palm against it,
but the thumps and beats don't spur from there.
i don't know where my heart stays.
feel the tips of my fingers,
and feel the lively beat there.
touch my wrist and veins that lay underneath.
touch the single note my heart plays.
an instrument that not even a drum could match.
the thumps bring a different sensation,
a magical beat.
simply graze your fingers on the palm of my hand.
be amazed by how my fists raises in the air.
how my fists shows the music of my whole body.
that's where my heart is.
in the air i run in,
in the air i breathe in,
that's where my heart is.
as my words flow out and into the blistering wind,
my heart goes out as well.
my heart goes out to the meanings of my poems.
that's where it stays.
i'm a poet at heart,
and there's only one place where it's happy in.
in the odd beats my words make,
in the stories i've come to share,
my heart lays within them.
so for all these emotions,
come prepared.

July 30th, 2019