I started writing without a heart

and you... you were the thief that took it
or was it willingly withdrawn?
It doesn't matter because I'm still right here!
Right where you left me, and you have my words, my sentences, my poems and a heart... my heart.
You had never planned to keep it did you?
Or was it that you had planned to give me something in return?
I'm still waiting, and I have nothing but empty words, sentences, poems, and a chest cavity with room for a heart.
I started writing without a heart in hopes to find one and I did...
With one last period, came one last beat
and  I am left without a heart again.