the shape of my heart

is not the right one
for valentines
we’ve learned to lie
with our paper
cut-outs
the even-ing out
of two sides
as if making love
neat and pretty
will help us to catch it
but inside my chest
is a mess of red hiding pink
uneven and bulbous
just waiting for someone
to smooth it over
see it bare
until all the ugly
is only something
we used to be afraid of