I have a heart two swords short,

A beast of burdens and great wounds,
(all clutched feathers and shed skins)
Becoming weightless and untethered.
We are overcome by a joy;
Laughter falls on us like a plague, we are falling to fits and pieces, 
Breathlessly tangled, inseparable as a finger trap.
I mumble and murmur, mesmerized.
I’ve memorized half a million prayers,
And the constellations printed under my anchorladen eyelids,
But it runneth over and empties out in the presence.