a beautiful heart/a foolish heart

there within her skin, her fragile ribcage, the layers of muscle and membranes, beneath veils of strong guise, scattered bits of emotional debris, and finally under a tight mass of fear, lies a beautiful heart. some would say that it is red with blood, with iron, a healthy heart that does its job; a heart that provides, a heart that pushes on, a heart that gives. some would say that she has a heart that takes back the blood depleted by its dependents, refills it as necessary, and sends it back out, knowing well that the blood will return, depleted again. some would say that she has a heart that sustains, not for no reason at all, but for some purpose. some would say her heart achieves something as it beats; her heart reaches for some end as it pulses; her heart wishes life as it thumps. some would say her heart is a miracle.

But i would say that her heart is red with love. i would say that her heart is more than a pump that pushes oxygen toward her vitals. i would say even that her heart is more than just a vessel for keeping in her thoughts, her emotions, her desires, her fears. i would say that her heart, as with all of our hearts, is not the sum of what lies within, but what can be and is put forth. therefore, i would call her heart words that normally do not describe an organ: generous, thoughtful, careful, resilient, and so, wonderful, miraculous, amazing, incredible. above all, i would call her heart beautiful; i would say that she has a beautiful heart.

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but what would she say of her own heart? would she say these same flattering phrases? would she exalt her heart up in the same way as i have? what does she feel about that heart that i have so praised? would she mention that her heart cannot beat forever? would she say that her heart is like any other? would she detail all the little flaws that cannot be seen from where i stand? would she explain that her heart truly is nothing more than a small pulsating bundle of muscle and nerves? even more than all that, would she say that her heart is frail and weak from wear and tear? would she list all the times her heart was not up to the task, was not not ready to fight, was too weary to work, was simply not enough? would she say that her heart is but a heart?

would she have the same words to utter to my heart which i graciously gave to hers? would she see that my heart is just a foolish heart, as any heart is liable to be? would she know that the words from my heart to hers are nonsense, drivel, rubbish, nothing but silly blabbering? would she understand that my heart is no real judge of a heart, as no human heart is? having that, then, would she hint that my heart's banter is but? would she mention that my heart is perhaps mistaken and deluded? would she declare that my heart needs work, that my heart, having eyes for everything around it, needs a hard look inward, that my heart needs to grow more than just a bit before looking outward? would she remind me that my foolish heart's adoration of her heart or any other is truly and deeply misplaced? would she then guide my heart in the proper direction? she would, wouldn't she?