my poor heart.

Shivers run down my feet. They arch out of my will. They anticipate out of my will.

The air thickens with excruciating slowness.

He meets my eye with deliberate care; he lifts her hands to his lips.

They clench out of my will. They brim out of my will.

My poor, duct-taped heart can cry no more but still she weeps out of my will.

He meets my eye with deliberate care as he remembered and danced with her,

 

His lips nuzzled my forehead. My lips were pressed against his stubbled neck.

We were wrapped in each other, a kiss away we were.

The light was red, bright and sunny, it colored my love.

That effervescent gush out of my story-lover heart ran out of my will.

I tried to stay, to steady myself but I tripped, I fell so joyously out of my will.

 

The mirror broke. The red darkened, bright and sunny my love was no more.

It consumed me. It obsessed me, out of my will.

I tried so hard to brace myself but it became me.

My poor, brave heart, how she tried to get back onto weakened knees but out of my will;

She still fell again and again.

He met my eye with deliberate care as he kissed her.

My poor, faithful heart broke more and more.

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