You woke up one winter night all on a sudden and asked me to peek inside your heart. 

I did not want to do it. I felt it would be like invading your territories. But you insisted. So with a white peony in hand, I squeezed in.

It was a huge heart, indeed. Bloody red, no spots of black I swear. 

And it was warm.
And in that cold winter night, I found warmth in the depth of your unfathomable heart.

I visited so many of your memories there- some known, some I had never seen.

There was the sound of laughter and there was blithe,
There was love and there were beautiful verses of poetry
There was the ear-piercing sound of melancholy
There was hatred and there was joy—I had found the whole universe in your heart, that night.

And then I looked in farther. 
And found a piece of broken glass, that seemed to have pierced your heart from deep inside.
And it was making your tendons feel weaker than ever.

It was sharp, 
It was perilous

It almost even got into my eye. But it did not take long for me to realize, it was not mere glass.
It was a mirror, with rich silver coating its back. 

And a reflection looked back at me as I tried to take out the piece from your precious, precious heart. 
And very slowly I realized, the reflection was mine.
And that winter night, I knew, I was the piece of glass piercing your insides and outs. 

I knew I was the sharp, perilous object paining your universal heart.

So I got into your bloodstream

And travelled to your brains
And built a small house there— too tiny for you to comprehend my existence
And I stayed there till the end

Not anymore like a sharp piece of glass, but like lost time. Like an abstract piece of writing scribbled on a wet, damp paper with ink smearing all over.

But at least I could be there. At least I could have the warmth I felt that night in your heart of perfection for as long as I wanted.

I didn't have to peek anymore
And you, you didn't have to ask.

Mashiat Lamisa is often seen frowning at the sight of people who dislike poetry and tomatoes. She can be reached at mashiatlamisa@outlook.com.