Poem 20160213

you have it
my heart
a prickly thing
covered in spines
needle sharp bones
that took years to emerge
and many more yet to soften
all to protect
sweet, refreshing, vulnerable
flesh

you have it
and you take it into your hands
you don’t ignore the jabs
or the drops of blood

you can’t
–they hurt too much–
but you hold it to you anyway