You Rattle My Heart

By Jade Blackmore
Copyright 2006, 2007

You know what hands reveal
About the man,
A qualified gentleman
Of my acquaintance explained once,
In his own delightfully uncouth way.
According to this theory, your hands
Must be an optical illusion.
The sight of them makes me blush.
I shake
Underneath hot pink lace
Imagining the skin of your palm
Against my nipple.
I hate you
Because
You're so damn beautiful
You make me forget my name,
Extenuating circumstances,
Caste,
Decorum,
Reality.
You rattle my heart.
To stand beside you
Not touching you.
Just soaking you in.
To fall so completely
Under the spell
You cast
Just by living.
I looked straight in your eyes.
And an infinite dagger
Struck my heart.
Little things
Rattle me inside.
Eyebrows.
An odd-colored chapeau.
Body language.
You leaned forward
And I asked,
Are you from Brooklyn?
But I meant that
As a compliment.
I say to myself
He's not real
He's a figment
Of your imagination
That was not a car.
That was not a man.
He can't forget me
Because he never knew me.
Not even a blip
On a radar
Filled with scratchy sylphs.
How can you jumble together
All the things
That rattle my heart?
A blender
Whirring
With Incompatible addictions.
A dark, silly tangle of cells.
Expose your vulnerability.
Unblur the edges.
Become human to me.
You made me
Want to know you better,
Then you disappeared.
So tender.
So sexy.
So sad.
A barely perceptible hand
On the back of your jacket
As you walked away.
Silk.
Cheap fabric.
It's all heaven to me
If you were inside it.
I watched you with eyes wide as a child's,
Fascinated by my new discovery.
You make every song sound fresh and new,
Even after a thousand listens.
Give me a song
To remember you by.