My heart is new, freshly minted and bare; I know not yet how or if it cares.
I know not the black from red; does it promise kindness or bloodshed?
I know not if it bruises, if the wound once open never closes.
I know not what it can take, but I know how fast it beats when in your arms I awake.
I feel it grow with each touch; to recognize you, darling, it wouldn’t need much.
It answers each revered moan; it’s enough to hope I won’t be nothing, I won’t be alone.
My heart is new and only you can make it burn.
My heart is yours to teach, my heart is yours to learn.