Pieces III: The Disposable Heart
Fingers glide over smooth scars, bleed from ragged ruins. Paint me in blood red, bathe me in night air. Scream so long, so deep even God takes a moment to look. Silken touch slips my heart into its angry hands. Don’t beat, don’t beat. Hang on until it doesn’t pump blood. Let it weaken then … More Pieces III: The Disposable Heart