One half of my heart you stole from me
and placed upon a table
where you stood holding a knife in your left hand
and a warm, soft cloth in your right.
I trusted you with my life and my soul,
but I was always terrified of trusting you with my heart.
The first girl I had ever looked at
and dared to call it love.
And it was love.
I loved you so deeply,
and I always looked after your heart.
I fed it kindness
and watered it with happiness.
Even through the rough times,
I still cared for it gently.
A knife or a warm, soft cloth?
Your heart was always on the right side of me.
Even with the devil screaming in my ear,
I still kept you on the right side.
What did I do to make you like this?
What happened that I missed?
Please tell me.
I want to know.
Was my heart too much to look after?
Did you run out of food and water for it?
I felt the pressure that day.
I felt the knife ripping and tearing my heart in half.
You chose the left side.
The knife.
Give it back, I beg you.
Every word that fell from your mouth
drove the blade deeper into my heart.
Give it back, I beg you.
Stop talking.
Don’t speak.
Just give it back.
Please—give my heart back.
“Fake love,” you called it.
How could you be so cruel?
That was the moment I changed.
I am inconsolable now.
Nobody can undo
the feelings you left inside me.
The only way I’ll ever be free from your knife
is if I forget you.
But I don’t want to forget you.
I want to love you.
Yet you will never accept that, will you?
You don’t have to.
I’ll accept it for you,
along with all the pain that follows behind it.
I will try my hardest to forget you.
I’m sure you’re trying to do the same.
From this moment on,
I will learn from my mistakes.
At least…
I hope I will.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 9:29 PM UTC
One half of my heart you stole from me
and placed upon a table
where you stood holding a knife in your left hand
and a warm, soft cloth in your right.
I trusted you with my life and my soul,
but I was always terrified of trusting you with my heart.
The first girl I had ever looked at
and dared to call it love.
And it was love.
I loved you so deeply,
and I always looked after your heart.
I fed it kindness
and watered it with happiness.
Even through the rough times,
I still cared for it gently.
A knife or a warm, soft cloth?
Your heart was always on the right side of me.
Even with the devil screaming in my ear,
I still kept you on the right side.
What did I do to make you like this?
What happened that I missed?
Please tell me.
I want to know.
Was my heart too much to look after?
Did you run out of food and water for it?
I felt the pressure that day.
I felt the knife ripping and tearing my heart in half.
You chose the left side.
The knife.
Give it back, I beg you.
Every word that fell from your mouth
drove the blade deeper into my heart.
Give it back, I beg you.
Stop talking.
Don’t speak.
Just give it back.
Please—give my heart back.
“Fake love,” you called it.
How could you be so cruel?
That was the moment I changed.
I am inconsolable now.
Nobody can undo
the feelings you left inside me.
The only way I’ll ever be free from your knife
is if I forget you.
But I don’t want to forget you.
I want to love you.
Yet you will never accept that, will you?
You don’t have to.
I’ll accept it for you,
along with all the pain that follows behind it.
I will try my hardest to forget you.
I’m sure you’re trying to do the same.
From this moment on,
I will learn from my mistakes.
At least…
I hope I will.
A person reflects on a love they trusted completely, only to realize the one they loved chose to hurt them instead of protect them. Using the metaphor of a knife and a soft cloth, the poem explores betrayal, heartbreak, and the pain of watching love turn cruel. Even after being emotionally destroyed and accused of giving “fake love,” the speaker still struggles to let go, torn between wanting to forget the person and still longing to love them despite everything.