A Conversation with my heart, part 2

Back in February 2023—on Valentine’s Day, actually—a friend encouraged me to have a conversation with my heart and to give it a name. I tried to name my heart after a Care Bear and that didn’t go well. That was the day I discovered that my heart is FURIOUS with me.

“A Conversation With My Heart, Part 1” emerged from that one-sided talk.

Today I knocked on her door again. I asked her this question:

What else do you have to say?

This is what she said:

I see how you see me:

A baby bird lying in dirt

staring sightless up at the nest—

hollow bones rotting,

worms traveling through them—

subway cars through a tunnel.

You think I’m shattered—

trillions of microscopic pieces

scattered,

dripping blood.

Unsalvageable.

Here’s what you get wrong:

at no point

were my bones ever

breakable.

So, stop attending my funeral.

The casket’s empty.

Stop mourning.

No grave was ever dug.

I am invincible

made of invincible

covered in invincible.

Do you really think

some random asshole

who ghosted you on the first date

is powerful enough to break something

mere minutes younger than the oldest soul?