The Anatomy of a Lover

If they cut me open, would they find a lion-heart beating in tandem with yours (lub-dub-lub-dub) sorrow flowing through the vena cava nostalgia fermenting in the left ventricle or an irregularity of euphoria granted permission to bypass tricuspid and bicuspid because too much of a good thing can kill. 

I am not a scientist but I know chemistry when I see it and not the strafer pink or celestial blue sediments in test tubes, but the crippling explosion of fireworks under the ribcage beneath my sternum up to the clavicle and down to the tailbone when your fingers dance between mine. ‘

Wong Su Ann

<adapted from equatorial sunshine>

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