away

I have a heart they say weighs 200 grams

Breathing between the folds of my ribs
It is not symmetrical or perfect.
It has bare tributaries of veins and arteries
Pumping sticky substances ino my being.

It is all the shades
of blue, red, and story shed.
Squishy, muscular, deformed.

It’s not flower laced
Nor is it star traced.
There are no pictures of places
Or faces
Stored in its crevices.

Oxygen.
  Capillaries
     Pressure points. 

Blood
  Ink
    Poison.

200 grams carries all the above
But not even a speck or stain of love.

That,
resides in you alone.