Wednesday, December 2, 2009

My Heart

My heart is a funny being,
she doesn't tell me what she's up to and what she does.
She'll love anyone without my consent,
and she'll do what pleases her.
She'll make me cry when she is moved
by a book, a movie, or a situation.
And then cackle like a hysterical banshee
when she loses her grip of everything.
She reads people like a dictionary,
and whispers to me her definition.
I'll tell her it's none of her business
but you think she'll listen to reason?
My heart is not a lonely hunter,
she lives life on the edge.
She flirts around as though
she's play acting on a stage.
She knows no bounds and barriers
she's wild as the windy gale.
She's full of life's desires
to take on every fairy tale.
My heart is a woman of passion
she is warm and soft and full of love.
But my mind can curb her enthusiasm
for he is the only one who knows.

3 comments:

gingertom said...

You have anthropomorphized your psyche. It's a good read.

Is there any relation to Ovid's Eros and Pysche? But then again Eros represents romantic love while Psyche the eternal soul.

Julya said...

No relation to Ovid - those words just came as though someone was whispering them to me

gingertom said...

Isn't that how it always happen? :)