Open

This poem is open,

Just like my heart was, once or twice

In this life.

I never gave it much thought,

Never held any grief or strife.

I simply wrote it, the way I wanted to.

Never gave it any second guess,

Just took a deep breath,

And like a good proposal,

I said yes.

I didn't think much would come of it.

A lot of times, I felt doubt.

I didn't think I'd make it.

But, wow, look where it all is.

A pump with two veins, two arteries.

Pumping, pumping, on and on.

Like a drum, drumming to its own beat,

To its own song.

I love to hear it whenever someone walks in the room,

Carrying good news,

Destroying my gloom.

And yet my heart, remains open, steady and sure.

It waits, but it never fades.

It sits around, waiting to be found,

But knows it will remain lost,

Bound,

On a fate, on a road yet undefined,

Yet uncalculated,

Yet refined.

It'll follow it, wherever it goes.

It's open, after all, I know it knows,

That what's right is right, and what's wrong

May be too.

But whatever it wants,

It'll get.

It doesn't take the time to subtract two and two.

Instead, what it does, is it just screams,

"I love you."

And it does it so effortlessly, can't you tell?

You've read this long,

And I hope you're well.