Taste Of My Heart

I tasted my heart

And it was vinegar;

The fermenting of tart

Like sour grapes gone bitter

The water and the blood

Pumping out are death black

A picture of reflected gore

Like a line from a verse by Plath

I detest the hateful taste

The slime in the aftertaste

Yet it is my heart

And I can't crush myself into parts

I must learn to love

What men curse at leisure;

The taste of my heart.

Akpan