There’s no more room inside of my chest. My ribs are already straining to keep me to myself. My organs sink into one another and my blood rushes to the surface to breathe. But I can’t breathe. My heart must be seven, eight, nine times its intended size, and it disfigures my lungs like deflated balloons. Each beat makes me dizzy with affection, or maybe it’s a lack of oxygen. How am I to know? All I can say for sure is that I’m ready to erupt under your touch and finally open up to you. I’m ready for you to see this beautiful mess you’ve made of me.