I wear your heart on my sleeve.
your actual heart though, the one you tore from your chest and gave to me.
there was sweat beading on my forehead on the day you set it in my hand with a smile, beating strong and steady.
but it's been months since and I can't find you in winter's cold,
so at night I lay listening to its weakened whisper,
imagining it's you trying to coax me to sleep.
my body remains cold.
you wear my heart on your sleeve.
my actual heart though, the one you tore from my chest and took from me.
but it had been months since and you're lost in blinding snow,
so it beats slowly, lethargic and tepid on your shoulder,
trying in vain to bring warmth to the lifeless body that resides underneath.
but your body remains cold.
I'll be left heartless,
but it's time to let go of your heart, once and for all.
I left you cold,
just as you left me.