Fingerprints on My Heart

I decided I needed to write a poem. We've been reading a lot of sonnets in Brit Lit right now, and though this is no sonnet, I wanted to write a poem. It was a rush of inspiration, and a bit different than what I usually write. Still, I just wrote it, and I like it. So, I thought I'd post it and see what you guys think. Criticism is welcome but as Mark Twain said, only criticism I like. Haha! No, I'm just kidding. Any feedback is welcome.

Fingerprints on My Heart

I thought I had to do it;
It was the only way.
So, I went home,
And opened my chest.
I took my heart out,
And attached it to my sleeve.

I showed it to everyone;
I let everyone up to see.
I ask them if they'd like to hold it.
Most say no: they think I'm crazy.
A few are surprised
But hold out their hands.

I'm wary of the boys.
I give them the same offer as the girls,
But a different connotation is behind it:
More hoops to jump through,
More precautions,
More necessary boundaries.

I let the girls keep it for as long as they like.
I'm always happy
When a girl is holding it:
Makes me feel special.
It's hard to hold a heart for long.
Your hands can start to shake.

It went fine for awhile.
They shared my heart equally
And some I preferred to hold it over others.
Still, I never put it back inside.
I thought they liked it too much.
Why didn't everyone do this?

Then I found out.
Someone didn't want it anymore.
I offered it to a usual yes,
And got a no instead,
A squeamish look.
What?

Then another.
More shied away.
The novelty was gone.
More work than fun.
Even the yeses
Were for shorter periods.

Maybe you should put it back in,
They said to me.
The ones that had turned to nos.
That's not how it's done.
It's not safe either,
Was their sheer excuse.

Was it really that way?
I looked at my heart,
There like a banner to the world.
Had I not achieved a difficult state?
Had I not shown them all me?
Had I not done the bravest thing?

Suddenly, pain started.
I looked back at my heart.
What were those?
Smudges? Dark areas?
Over the flawed skin?
The pain centered from there.

I knew what bruises were,
Dime sized, oblong shapes,
All over.
When had these come?
When had the pain started?
How could I not have seen this?

Now, everywhere I went,
I received more.
It was because my heart was
Too far out, too vulnerable.
The yeses began to talk like the nos,
Encouraging me to replace my heart.

Hide it, they said.
Keep it safe,
Were their friendly words.
I agreed.
Maybe it was time.
Yes, I would do it.

It was hard,
But I took my heart down.
I took a deep breath
And went to put it in.
Panic like water.
The scar was gone.

Without the guide map of removal,
Replacement is impossible.
I'm lost. Now what?
I can't put it in.
I don't know how.
I don't remember

Tears. My heart hurts.
I can't hold it in my hands anymore,
It's too sore from the bruises.
From the nos that didn't
Treat it gently.
It is a heart after all!

I half wish I could sever it completely.
But of course,
That's just as impossible as replacement.
There's only one choice left.
With a sniff,
I put it back on my shoulder.

It still sits there,
Hanging limper than before. Still sore.
It will always be sore.
The bruises can't seem to disappear.
They held it too long.
They left their mark well.

I'm marked now.
And no one wants
To hold a damaged heart.
Only a few of the truest
Still say yes to holding on.
I'm now wary of more than just boys.

I hope the skin,
The damaged, overlapping skin
Can grow back.
I hope the scar will
Magically appear
And I can put my heart back where it belongs.

But sometimes I wonder,
Was it really ever inside?
I can't remember that far back.
Was I born abnormal?
The most vital piece of life
Born to the most defenseless place?

I'm still looking for yeses.
Though, I'm more cautious than before.
I try to see a word ahead
In any person's eyes.
A yes?
Or a no?

If it seems like a yes,
It has to be permanent.
I don't always judge right.
I have more bruises than before.
More marks of all the mistakes.
More identification of who finally said no.