Tin Men

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I am not an interchangeable part
to mend broken hearts.
I never have been.
I have my own heart to heal.
Let’s not graft a hybrid heart
and grow it with pesticides;
only sick things grow that way.
And besides,
I would rather weather
the elements and nature
organically.
I feel your indecisiveness;
you wear it like armor.
Is chivalry dead?
Has it died and left tin men
with no hearts?
But, I suppose they are still there,
bruised
and beating to songs tied to memories.
I’ll not touch your heart with balmy hands–
Just my own.

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