This heart of mine.

The more you wound 
heart cut with love blade 
make me bleed , bleed and bleed 
leaving line , scar and scratch 
every second , every hour ,
days into months
months into years
the more strong this heart thread becomes
like trees that take deeper roots in storm
that it is never satisfied 
and does not say
'stop , now enough'.
Instead,
it takes tours from pavement -gut
to streets 
and ancient architect
extracting histories, 
laughter , word ,
ways of gaze ,
your broad smile, cheeks -puffed,
so glorious like
a dew drop sparkle.