1:45 a.m.
4/5/2024, Saturday-
i clutch at my heart by pushing past my lungs and rip it out, hands bloodied. my throat burns raw, my chest empty. i wash my hands of the blood that drenches them, trickling down my wrist. speckles of ruby remain, but I pay no heed. i decorate the living, undeniable proof of my love for you, with layers of a red rose's skin. it blends in with my heart; seperate, but part of it. i cup my palms, delicately holding this very essence of myself, offering it up to you. though away from its home, it never ceases to beat- the thrum, thrum, thrum, a litany chanted throughout my head. i tremble, with the sheer weight of my love for you weighing my arms down. i kneel- waiting, waiting, waiting for you to look at me, to accept my adoration for you. i wait for you to gently cradle my heart in your hands, to keep it safe. but you cannot. you touch it, you poke at it, but never love it. it trembles and writhes with the burn of your skin, your presence. i clutch at it harder and harder, so as to not let it fall. i feel my nails dig into the tender flesh, gripping harder, harder. blood stains my fingers once more, a sinful trickle down my skin. my chest is empty, yet it cries out with pain, the pain of a phantom heart in place of my own – beating, yet still; mine, yet not. the image of my blood dripping, in rivulets of pure, tangible agony, is in front of your eyes. yet I fear you must be blind, for you seem to never see it. i grip at my heart harder, feel its thump more desperate than ever before. blood oozes out more, drenching me in crimson. with each cry for your love, it beats a bit faster, with more force. the colour drains from the tissue, greying in death. it is wrung out dry, just as my ribs collapse in on themselves, a towers of cards falling to the ground. that what remains of my heart, has long come to a still. not a movement to be seen, a beat felt. a void takes its place, sucking me in, my soul, my heart. my decaying hands, still upturned in offering, hold no more than rotten flesh, far past salvation. i feel you brush past, seemingly unaware of all that has passed. withered petals, nearly unrecognisable, gently float down, swaying in the heavy air. it is all that remains, of the traces of my heart. it is all that remains, of the unfathomable love i held. in your eyes, it was a brief moment of curiosity. in mine, it was my life. to you, it was of none such relevance. to me, it was dedicatedly yours.
