A paper heart danced in
through the window,
sliced across my cheek
and left me bleeding,
a single dropp of red
chased by a startled tear
that answered
to the sudden sting;
the heart dropped to the floor,
razor edges curled
perhaps in shame?
and shuffled in the breeze
enough to show
the faintest hint of writing
at the center
fingers pressed
against the tiny entrance
through the armour
of my skin, I leaned
to read the legend
I had paid for with my blood,
a shift of words that spoke
of strangers in the moment
then steadied down
to one stark phrase
'Stranger, you are loved.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem