Science insists love is the domain of the brain and its chemicals. Poetry maintains its metaphors that say love is found in the heart.
My last love affected my heart very literally: When he was near it would flutter and slightly quicken its pace — enough to create that muffled sense of exultation that just the right amount of caffeine can impart. Sometimes it was too much, and, circulation imbalanced, i would shiver, teeth chatter, feeling cold in room temperature. (I remember feeling the same chill as a child on Christmas morning.)
And when i was no longer my last love’s love, my heart hurt — like acid in my esophagus, but in my actual heart. My heart would slow when i saw him. Was it an attempt to slow time? to forestall the future foreseen by my pained heart? Or was it just an attempt to feel nothing rather than pain? Did my heart know so much?
Now you, my love, affect my brain. I feel dizzy at your praise and find it hard to stand in your presence. My mind soaks up your words pleasantly as the dopamine does its job in just the right amounts. The brain controls the heart, so maybe in time my dizzy brain will quicken my now-quiet heart. But for now I’ll let my brain feel drunk from your presence and wonder if when you leave it will feel like eating ice cream too fast.
Then I’ll tell the scientists and the poets that the choices are heartburn or brain freeze, but either way, love must be firmly lodged in the stomach.