Your Heart

January 22, 2012
Your heart is with me,
Shoved into my front pocket
Amongst the rusting change
And crinkled blue gum wrappers
It squirms defiantly, but the withered
Lint holds it still with chains of cotton restricting it
I faintly feel the fight going on below,
My eyes preoccupied by someone else’s,
Who threw my own away, moments ago
His battle has ended,
So why can’t mine?
Silence.
Your heart stops to go over its next move
Decision made, my hand swoops down upon it
But as I pull the erratically pumping thing out,
Your precious heart becomes stuck on a twisted paper clip
The war begins once more





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