A Wooden Heart?

Here’s a tongue-in-cheek piece of fun. If we were to describe, metaphorically, the material of which our heart is made, what would it be?

Aluminium? It hasn’t rusted despite salty experiences and weathering fierce storms. It looks a bit steely but is really quite lighthearted.

Plastic? Practical and accustomed to multitasking, it only breaks when brittle and, even then, it doesn’t disintegrate because it’s not biodegradable. It’s a resilient old bag.

Wood? It catches fire easily and burns like a hot coal. It’s warm only when ignited. Otherwise, it’s dry, dead wood. Here’s the link to one of my favorite vintage film clips. It’s of Elvis in G.I. Blues. He’s wooing a coy puppet doll that has spooky, pitiless black eyes.

Paper? This heart is torn to shreds and inked with sad stories. After napping in fresh sheets, it produces reams of comical news and romances and self-help. When cherished, it will present itself to you as a gift-wrapped package.

Cotton? Full of fluff and a slave to fashion, this heart keeps its cool under pressure and refuses to sweat the small stuff. It sticks to dressing things up and cosmetic changes. It will cotton on pretty quickly if you try pulling the wool over its eyes; keeping your dirty laundry in the closet won’t help.

Stone? A walled heart accustomed to taking bullets and arrows and mallets, it’s protective and solid in a crisis, but a bit hard to live with on a day-to-day basis. You must build trust and smooth its rough edges with the right tools. Tears won’t work unless you keep them plopping like a merciless, torturous drip, drip, drip.

Glass? Fragile and transparent, people see right through this heart to a chamber. In the chamber lies an anemic maiden with an hourglass figure. She has a room with a view but believes her life is like a dry, empty vase. She shatters easily and will cut you with unexpected sharpness.

Rubber? A promiscuous heart that needs protection as it often treads where it shouldn’t. It tyres easily because, when the wheel turns, this heart goes along for the ride. Thank goodness it’s waterproof; I cannot tell you how many times it’s been in hot water. No need to treat this heart with kid gloves. If it requires medicating, prescribe latex.

I Can Hear Your Heartbeat sings Chris Rea, and it’s a sweet sound.

Shall we put a song to each heart? Think about it and come up with an appropriate match (or two; the more the merrier).

If a tune pops into your head, please please please let me know, and I’ll make a list for another post.

What have I overlooked? Are there materials with characteristics I have heartlessly omitted?

As always, you have the whole of my heart for just being here; for visiting me and sharing in my little excursion into circulatory nonsense.

Enjoy the rest of the week, wherever your heart is.

xxx ❤ TeaShell