Her heart grew eyes

we are at the crossroads, my little outlaw,
and this is the map of my heart, the landscape
after cruelty

Poems are a hotline to our hearts, and we forget this emotional power at our peril.

Those with wild hearts love big
love fiercely
love with every fiber
of their feral being.

Maybe our bodies
are just hearts
with legs
and that’s why we’re so quick
to run.

Sad smo samo dva srca izmedju mnogih drugih srca.