vacuum the internal organs with the rest of her emotions, why don’t you?
feel free to do what you want with her heart, as it was voluntarily given
steal it, free it, throw it on the ground and stomp in accordance to its beat
“love me like the guillotine does a pulsing neck”
what is this some cult ritual or a valentine’s day charade?

driving down i-35 with night swim blaring so loud that her ear drums burst
would rather be deaf than forced to hear another boy’s silence
closing her eyes for a few seconds at a time
a whirlwind romance of seventy miles per hour and oncoming traffic

memories flash like a warning sign, find a replacement
black screen, white light, muffled voices that sound too dramatic
what once brought joy, now grates upon her shot nerves
a cruel irony reserved for her

blame it on the hormones, or that’s what she tells herself
tape your mouth to prevent outpour, organize thoughts to fake control
what ifs, what could have beens, if onlys piercing the barrier of sanity
sitting, searching, staring at the wall until her eyes blur the invisible lines