There's still an empty space
          where there should be a heart
From all the words you used,
                 hoping to tear me apart
There's still a giant ****
           in the back of my spine
From the knife you stabbed
        while looking in my eyes
There's still all these holes
                      in my chest
From the shotgun trigger pulling
              when you left

At the very least, poetry and science are sisters.
But, more likely, they are the soul and the body,
sharing a single heart,
whispering arias to the universe,
waiting to hear it singing back