a poem a day for a year #192

by Amy Turn Sharp


There are governing rules to breaking my heart. You are not allowed to do it midweek. And never on a Saturday night. Rip my heart out on a cruel Monday only. Also, you must kiss me with an open, wet mouth first. And After. Pull my hair a bit. Make me happy. Tell me little stories. Lies, whatnot. Punch me in the gut and wave goodbye.