The complexity of my human heart
Reminds me of indigenous vines
Tangled ferociously into a tightly
Knotted mix of emotions that I
Or rather, it is a thing I choose
Not to untangle.
You see, when I try to free the vines
From the mess, I notice parts of them
I overlooked before, like the thorns
That poke out quietly from the strands,
Waiting for my fingers to prick themselves.
It hurts, just a little bit, but I barely feel it
Because there are too many knots and
They are tight, and sometimes when I pull
On a vine, the entirety of it squeezes.
That’s when I feel it hurting,
Just a little bit.
Do not get it twisted,
I am happy,
I see the little birds
Flying from one tree to another,
I hear their chirps in the early hour of
The morning, just when the streaks of daylight
Are beaming from behind the horizon,
And I feel a bitter sweet
Emotion that is more sweet than bitter.
I smell the Earth after it rains,
And although it reminds me of a
Damp, cold, and eerie cave,
It also makes me think of city life,
And the beloved town I grew up in
With people that are too far from me now.
It makes me feel a bitter sweet emotion
That is more bitter than sweet,
Because as my memories grow older,
They forget to show me the dimples,
Crinkles, and moles.
Instead, I see scattered faces,
And I hear broken laughter.
My human heart is a paradox,
And between it lies chaos,
But it is not catastrophic.
It’s beautiful chaos.