the heart collector

the Father had his heart broken
into a million pieces
the where, why and how
unknown

unnecessary, irrelevant

so when he asked the Mother
to borrow hers
she put it on a platter
and covered it with a dark red scarf
silky and smooth
the colour of blood, her heart
to protect it from wandering eyes
and delivered it by hand

as the Father strolled away with a-heart
the Mother spent her days
in hollowed pain
an absence she couldn’t explain

her eyes the shade of a greying sky
refusing to let in the sunlight

her nights spent in agony
her sleep a maze of nightmares
begging for a-heart to own

the Daughter could no longer be a witness
and thought she was wise(r)
took out her own heart,
and laid it next to Mother

who needs a-heart, she thought

instead, she’d collect pieces, she decided
glue and unglue
every permutation and combination possible
create your own puzzle
no commitment to a-heart

an overrated organ, she thought
to subjugate women

her brain never lost a battle
always in control

for many years, she lived the dream

as she flew across the skies
and swam across seas

when someone offered her a-heart
she refused

instead, she took a bite
enough to be polite

only mildly curious
adding to her growing collection
some she was fond of
others forced upon her

some nights, before she went to bed,
she’d check in with the heart(s)

some nights, she’d be curious
to know what it would feel like to own a-heart
would it make her whole?

some nights, she’d want to burn it all
no mementos

some nights, she’d lay brick by brick
layer by layer
to build a wall around her collection

some nights, she’d take a hammer
and break those walls

in the end, it didn’t matter
her heart(s) changed so often
never really hers to claim

and time passed, who knows

maybe she was collecting the million pieces
the Father lost
so he could have his heart back

so the Mother could have her heart back
so the Daughter could have her heart back