A heart is a fragile thing.
Each vein pulsing the cells that are vital to flow through your body. Chambers opening and closing with every beat to accept and discard the red liquid to keep the shell of a human breathing.
What happens when the chambers close and refuse to open? What happens when the blood no longer courses. What happens when lungs don't fill with air?
It hurts.
Waking up to the empty bed while his scent lingers on the sheets, engulfing you with the knowledge that never escaped your lips.
Light filters through thick clouds, rain painting the window casting shadows along the wrinkled sheets. Sheets that easily creased under his knuckles as heavy breaths panted in your ear.
Sheets that held mornings where you'd wake up early just so you could memorize every feature of his face. The story it told that you would never be blessed to hear.
Sheets that gave cover enough for your hands to freely roam scarred flesh. The bubbled skin causing your fingers to rise and fall through the indentions.
Did he ever know? Could he feel the way you yearned for him? Could he hear the whispered bargains you made with the devil just so he would stay by your side a little longer?
Your eyes fluttered, choppy breaths desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, cheeks mirroring the streaks that painted the window.
It hurts...
Ghost told you in the beginning that he couldn't love. A man void of emotion, unable to provide the world you dreamed of. That didn't stop the nights from running long as you accepted your fate.
Thinking maybe if you kept your heart beating in silence calloused hands would hold you a little closer.
If you gave yourself to him piece by piece
maybe he wouldn't realize the way he was retaliating the movement.
"I can't give you something I don't have, love.."
The words plague your mind, hands raising to cup your ears as if it would drowned out the thick accent that once spoke them.
Knees drawing to your chest, not providing nearly as much comfort as ink covered arms could.
Did it hurt him the way it did you?
Could he feel the way the chambers stopped opening and closing?
Did he feel red cells start slowing?
Did he know it was the heart he unknowingly held that stopped beating when he drew his last breath?
"That's okay, I have enough for the both of us."
Your words rang in his ears, like an angel calling him home.
Oh how he wished he could give you back the now bullet shredded muscle that you so willing placed in blood stained hands.
It hurt.
