Cardiology

When you stand at the edge of
I think this love is going to break my heart
dive in anyway. Know you will crack your skull
on the shiny ceramic end of it.
Know it will shatter your core.
Let it.

Let your heart break. Let it scatter like glass on a tile floor.
Let it take weeks for your bare feet to find every tiny shard.

Let it combust like you knew it would when they
first found your eyes, that heavy anchor of knowing
that dropped into your stomach.
You will be better for it. You will learn that your
lungs will keep filling. You will learn that your eyes will open
every morning. You will learn what you are made of
when you glue back your every fragment. There is no better
way to learn your own anatomy.

In the meantime, enjoy the fireworks. The explosive
temporary madness, the blinding color of a passion so strong
it consumes you, licks its lips and sucks the marrow
from your bones. Love with every cell you contain.

And when this love is finished with you, when it has left you
in ashes, perfumed in gunpowder, a knife and fork crossed
on the plate you served yourself up on, remember how you
asked for this. Remember how you walked into this fire
with the knowledge that it was only ever going to end this way.
And then remember the phoenix. Remember the winter.
Remember your body. Your skin that replaces itself
every few years, your hair that outgrows every bad decision,
your uterus that sheds the awesome potential of life every damn month.
Remember, you are a mystic creature, woman. Remember, you heal.

Remember this, when you fear the fall, when you want to guard
your skipping heart from the possibility of another flaming end, remember:
you will never be so broken than you cannot rebuild.