My Heart

My heart is a great many things,

Shapeshifter, or maybe a chameleon.

When hope comes into view,

My heart is,

At worst, an eager puppy just begging to be kicked

Nipping at your heels, chewing up your good phone charging cord, and shitting on the white rug your grandmother gave you. 

Love me, love me, love me

While I dig holes all over your yard, that I thought you'd enjoy. 

Wanting you to pat me on the head, and surprised when you swat me. 

If hope holds, and sets into liking, 

My heart is a circus clown

Clumsily spinning plates and wanting your applause, only to drop them

(And of course it was your good China)

Losing more and more of my colorful clown self, the more you don't laugh at my silly antics

Or telling me to stop riding around with the other clowns, because who needs a ride that badly

Tripping over my clown shoes

And me fading into mime, for you

Only because I can't keep my hands still.

If we even make it this far, 

And liking turns into loving, 

Then my heart is a paper flower

I keep in a glass box that I keep having to find new hiding places for, because you've already unknowingly cracked the glass, many times

And crumpled the paper, smudged with greasy, careless fingers

But every single time you say, "Trust me"

I will do just that, and let you hold 

My heart in your hands

While I bake you the cookies your mother used to make you, when you were little, because she gave me the recipe.

At best, 

My heart is the best place for you to rest your weary head, and maybe stay for a while when the world hurts you.

I just wish you'd come to stay. 

No matter how many times you leave, you know it always has a place ready and waiting for you.

My heart is a great many things, mostly broken by you.