There are more sayings on love
Than hope or ambition and yet
Hope and ambition are always cornerstones
Maybe even preludes to a little edition
Of heart-matter overheating in burn chemistry.
Flames are blazed from a cauldron
Inside a palpitation chamber, unequivocally
An incandescent lantern lighted with affection
And burning with desire and that fusion
Can be deadly – it makes 30s women cry like little girls
Waiting for a phone call and grown men practice kisses in front
Of bathroom mirrors.

And that chamber called the human heart
Possesses nuclear capabilities
That can spill over like a reactor in Chernobyl
Yet holds all the right flames inside that little
Fibrous compartment until perhaps
When love is spoken and reciprocated
When a heated accident crashes throat to throat
And skin rises as goosebumps
Only to unleash a nuclear meltdown
Of two nuclei in absolute fusion
Leaking more energy than
Two suns in collision.

And in the aftermath, you can feel
The nuclear afterstorms still racing through flesh
When all one can do is to hold
Her orbitals as close as possible
And wait till the next nuclear tempest
To explode. After all, there is
An endless supply of yellowcake
Burning inside a nuclear reactor
We call the human heart.

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