Titles are Overrated

Part 144

I don't think

that I have a heart.

Something else sits 

behind my ribs,

beating and pumping

fear 

into my blood.

I'd spill it all for you.

But my heart -

I couldn't give it to you

even though I want to.

All the pieces fall through

my fingertips.

I'd fix myself

if I could,

but some things are

simply far too broken

to be put back together again. 

my heart has been eaten out