And I cut out my heart for you.
I felt it in my hands.
It was red and pulsating
Not very pretty,
But homemade
And all on my own.
It wasn't on your christmas list
And I'm sure you found it gross,
And now, I'm not so sure why I gave it to you.
I saw you intrigued by her head and hands,
But I was already counting on giving it to you.
Now I'm looking in the trash can
At my red, beating piece of useless flesh
And watching you inch closer towards her.
My heart has been thrown away once again.
It's time to grow another
And hide all the knives away
I need to keep this next one.
But now I sit, injured
A big bleeding hole where
My gift for you was living.
But I can feel the muscle fibers
And flesh slowly crawling back together.
I'll be okay.
But my brain sits unscathed
And though my heart will
Gladly forgive you, lickety-split
My brain has had the feeling
Seared in for the hundredth time.
It cannot bring itself to forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment