Crooked Hearts

I don't think they have told her
but she writes poetry every day
The way her bony fingers curl
like they are grasping for something
But she says they are just crooked
and that I should just stop staring
at the look in her eyes
she is throwing it out the window
Like a childhood dream
treated like contraband
She is afraid I can see
Because she knows that I can

I have never told her that I am a smuggler
That I have found a way to polymerize
The smallest of childhood dreams
and incorporate them into plastics
So everyday when I brush my teeth
I think of our life together in mirrors
And when I brush my hair with that comb
I think that I am either Superman
or just another janitor with a gift he won't share


I think I already told her once
we live out our poetry every day.
Laying in the dark as the sun comes
crawling walls, looking for something.
But then Moon says I have it all wrong
and I think I should just stop staring.
At the look in my eyes mirrored in hers
reflected like light on water.
It's like a childhood thing
that we should give but we keep
But only because we can
-Writeredhanded