Why stop at kissing the skin of my soul?!

Why not it's inner most?

Flavour is found there,
dig, and you may find something to treasure.
My words are not of gold,
but what lies within is.

I know the earth is polluted
by unrequited love.
It only makes sense to mask the heart,
to quarantine all those ecstatic smiles.

The bruised earth is populated
by unreturned laughter.
It makes sense to cover the heart,
and wear stale smiles.

Still,
here I am,
my organs on my sleeves,
ready for you to stitch
your name into them.