Poetry by Melissa Mann

Love – a series of short sharp shocks

[i]
I don’t know what it is.
Maybe it has arms and legs
And hands and feet,
The way it kicks,
The way it makes
A fist of its upper hand
Trying to punch
Its way out
Of your heart.
Maybe when you weigh it
It’s like a pound
Of flesh.
Or maybe it’s just
A pounding,
Your heart coughing
Inside your chest.
Or maybe there’s nothing to it,
Like a ghost.
Maybe it’s like a ghost
That doesn’t know
It’s a ghost.
I don’t know what it is.

[ii]
She sits there
In the middle of
The rest of her life,
Making a list headed:
‘Men I have loved
But wouldn’t want to love.’

[iii]
He has a theory
That no one
Really loves
Anyone
But themselves.

She has a theory
That you can
Make yourself
Love anyone.

I have a theory
That love is both
True and false
At the same time.

[iv]
He throws her heart
at the wall
to see how she feels
about him.

When it breaks he knows
she loves him.

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