untitled

You could kill me with those eyes of yours
unless I sat cross-legged with mine closed
humming 
a deep base note of hope until
you couldn't see me anymore.
You would have to
come three steps closer and then
I would cut open the skin below your sternum
with this scalpel I found
I'd slip my hand
up inside your ribcage, feeling 
the bones against my knuckles, my other hand
at the small of your back
holding you still, my face turning
away from your hair 
that tickles, threatening 
to derail my focus and spin fantastical dreams, no!
My eyes stay closed, fingers slowly sliding
between your organs to
the pericardial sac.
It has two layers but I'd make it through 
and then I would
touch your heart.