New Love

The soft and supple heart— ripe as fruit, ready for the hand that brings it back home. Reflections in the mirror, bruised at times, broken skin oozing bittersweet fluid. An off-putting smell that finds itself in a squinting reflection of tired eyes in the breaking dawn. But my eyes are open not to the past, but to the new grapevine that twines around everything I touch. I am not hard as rock but delicate to the touch because I welcome you to hang your heart-shaped ornamentation of our new identity.