When I was younger and angry with myself,
I did this thing, this Stupid thing -
I tore up my paper heart,
gave a piece to everyone I loved,
brothers,
sons,
lovers,
friends
They were always boys;
I hated girls as I hated myself
And now as we have grown
these man-boys glance at the crumpled
IOUs
signed with my love
they crammed in their pockets so long ago
they look at them and see trash -
- it's just a scrap
after all -
And in their haste
to fill their pockets anew they
(overlook)
mine as it floats to the ground,
buoyed by the air
and lands like a leaf to be
Trampled
underfoot.