When I lie flat on my stomach, protecting my soft underbelly from the world, I can feel my heart beating through my chest into the bed beneath me. Each thump of my heart resonates through my body. It is so loud I am sure it is audible to everyone. I huddle under my blankets and press it to my mattress to hide it, to muffle it. How can I face the world like this? Surely my ribs are too flimsy to guard this vital organ. I have felt them flex and give under the weight of my body, the weight of another’s hand. How can they possibly stop any random person from punching through them and ripping out my heart?

When I lie pressed this close to you from behind, I can’t hear your heartbeat, but your voice echoes deep in your chest and I know there is space in there for me. I want to live in your chest, buried deep in between your blood hot organs. I want the soothing rhythm of your heart next to my ear, the pressure of your lungs expanding and crushing me sweetly. I want to live inside of you. I want to burrow up into you from underneath, up past your diaphragm so I make sure I keep that beautiful bone cage intact to protect me.

I will nestle my heart up next to yours where I know it will be safe.