My open heart doesn’t want surgery

I felt my rib cage crack through,

A word at a time, it gave way.

My heart poured through then,

To all the magic before me.

I felt that the stuff that filled my heart

Was kin to melted chocolate,

Banana ganache, soft dough

And everything that spoke of

The fragile strength in vulnerability.

I wanted to be in the illusion forever-

The illusion of art and performance

Because, and this is epiphany,

There was nothing more I wanted

Than to be so wholly vulnerable to beauty.

 

“I gave her/him/it/them my heart,”

They say.

But I want to do it all the time.

Poetry is beautiful

Drama is beautiful

Dance is beautiful

Song is beautiful

Because they are what move things in the universe

Somethings that are finally closer to real than magic.

Performance is an open heart

Facing the surprisingly persistent raindrops;

Bracing yourself for the beautiful sunshine.

 

Performance and beauty really should be synonyms.

 

The movie ‘Stuck In Love’ proved to be a great inspiration for this post. It’s a beautiful movie.

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