love letter

I left my heart in California.

It is buried there,

beneath tree roots and roses.

It blooms in spring

with cala lilies and jacaranda trees.

Butterflies swagger on its petals,

and the sea salt smooths the rough edges.

In winter, my heart is devoured

by the vampire boys and boys with broken wings,

bloodhounds with sandpaper veins who

stalk blood roses in the Hollywood hills.

It is all red flesh and weak,

but the seeds get stomped

back into the ground

by girls in combat boots and pink dresses.

My heart seeks me in all seasons

knowing that a small cloud hangs

where my heart used to be.

A cloud dripping dew

to the rest of me,

wondering if a new heart will grow.