When I press my fingers

Into my chest,

I can feel my heart

Right there,

A little ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum,

Right there

Beneath a layer of tissue thin skin.

I feel that area

Throbbing

Swelling like the salted sea

Almost imperceptibly

Like little ocean blooms under a new moon.

If I am quiet and still

I can feel my honey blood

Coursing

Pumping

Blazing (like the colour of red amber)

Through my cushioned veins.

I can feel

Its current

Its flow

Its effervescence

And I feel it going exactly where it needs to go

To find its purpose.

If I massage that place in my chest —

That place of raw pounding

Where once there was stabbing crimson ache,

I can feel my arteries expanding and contracting

Once again

With a full range of motion and freedom it never knew

Existed

Before this moment.

~~~

❤👽

~~~

*** You’ll look for any excuse to fondle your own breasts, and say you’re touching your heart, wontcha, Sweet Cheeks? ***

*** Heart… breasts… all a part of the same me so… same difference either way, old man. ***