Cross My Heart

For the heart,

does it bend around me?

my knees within.

arm such extended

but the soul, how it confines itself,

hides, facades in its blind eyes.

 

and why

why would it grow

when seasons run to rines in the pines,

found in the picture, found pound in pound,

with love in their hearts,

not love in their eyes?

 

like that love,

which cameras can't deny,

nor express,

nor exchange for any giving of hope.

 

for in my heart,

I find no trust in making room

 

for the rest.