Heart

If my heart could talk, what stories would it tell? What characters would it remember? The ones that came and went? Who decided to stay when uninvited? The names etched that can’t be removed? If my heart had a pen, who would it write to? Who would it call for? Who would it write about? Would it finally be honest? Could I break out of my shell and emerge from hiding? Could I live freely and truthfully? Knowingly? Peacefully? Or would my bleak tales darken the world? Make them want to shut me out because every word that leaves my tongue feels like acid on the skin. Or would I cover it up with bandages and share the adventures and triumphs? Everyone is hoisting me on their shoulders. Cheering. Wanting to be a part of it. If my heart had a pen, would it consult with my brain? Would it be unfiltered, raw? Would I remember? If my heart had a pen, who would listen?