Where do the pieces That once made up a whole, steadily beating heart That have now been torn Vein from vein, Vessel from vessel, Artery from artery, go?
I often find myself picking up these broken pieces, sometimes unable to find some missing parts I often also find myself stitching the pieces back together, Hoping that, somehow, if my poor heart became close to the entity it once was, It would begin to beat once again.
I found the missing part of my dull heart, I found it still stuck to yours.
From then on, my heart learned to beat half alive, when it realized it would never retrieve its missing part again.
You are a Thief, but part of me will always be yours nevertheless.