The heart wants what it wants

How did the heart, a muscle,
Get to be the icon of love?
Is it because above the city’s street bustle
When I see her, it flutters like a dove?

Why do they say, follow your heart
When it has no neurons, no way to signal?
Is it because when across the street she darts
I follow, before with the crowd she mingles?

Why does Iago worry he’ll be vulnerable
If he will wear his heart upon his sleeve?
Is it because, even though I was now able
I stopped, and suddenly, my quest I leave?

Though it is always there, what does it mean,
To have your heart set on something?
Is it because, as she walked away, not to be seen
I felt mine jump to her from my very being?

Why do sad stories tug at our heartstrings?
There are no threads, it is no puppet
And as the crowd parted, I could hear my heart sing
(Not really) But for in that moment, our eyes met.

Is the heart of a lion that much bigger
Than the one that beats in each one of us?
If I now, summon my courage, fight for her
Do I become, the king of the jungle or forest?

Heart over mind? What did I do?
The heart has no power to reason,
But yet I believe when I said, “I Love You”
It was my humble heart that blossomed that season

In the heart of the city.