Unlaced.

This heart
is a cramped
and heavy place
best kept laced
tight as corsets
and gallows knots.

Just one small cut
an incision of doubt...
and of decision
and this one sharp point
applied with precision.

Yes.

Unlace my heart
and out tumbles sadness:

 an origami flutter
of folded thoughts
best left pressed in books
or tucked in cellar boxes.

 A scattering of pages,
cigarette ends
and dreams for all my ages.
Here a stamp,
there a heartbreak
with a scar
(oh I remember that night it was so...)

A handful of joy,
a dried bouquet of regret
(yes, I was 17 then... wasn't I?)
and the hopes of days
still promised yet.

All these scraps
and memories
shake out
into just one girl
(didn't she write poems?)

A star
collapsing
within a cage of bone.

(Quick, lace me up,
or someone might see...)

A girl
with a nova
inside of her chest.