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A curious thing,
this mass of muscle and arteries.

Pumping blood around
Holding feelings tight in its grasp

I am angry.
It beats painfully, hard, fast.

I am happy.
It sings and it dances.

I am in love,
and oh how I feel it squeeze and leave me breathless.
That one’s my favorite I think.
Beautiful, beautiful breathlessness.

I am sad.
It weighs like an iron anchor sitting in my chest.

I have been rejected.
That squeezing becomes far too tight,
and suddenly, there’s nothing
but a hole.

The beating becomes slow, labored,
Breathing is suddenly painful.

The edges of the hole ache and burn.
Shredded and torn is the soul it protected.

I gasp for air.
Christ this hurts.

This mass of muscle and arteries.
It lies to you.

Tells you to feel.
Tells you to care.

Despite the pain,
despite the agony and the broken feeling,
you continue to listen.
And you die inside.

This curious thing…
It’s a monster.
You probably understand. Or maybe you don't, after all. Either way, it is jumping around inside me and if I don't let it out soon all my carbonation will fizz up and run over the side of my glass and I don't want to waste all that sweetness.

I want to kiss you underwater.

I want that kiss to be the only thing keeping us alive. Down there we are foreigners, aliens. Grasping, I want to feel your flesh in stark contrast to the smooth wetness all around me, like a secret.

All that life where we cannot live. Exotic, forbidden, so lovely. I am sick with love.

— The End —