Come on baby,

do some open heart surgery on me.

Put back together my broken heart

that you ripped out of my chest, and tore apart,

stamped on in your stilettos,

and kicked into the gutter, while muttering,

I love you.

  Before you grab your scalpel,

to make your first cut,

clip some forceps to my lips,

so I can't whine like a pup.

No anesthesia to ease my pain;

you prefer to watch me lay here,

and go insane.

   After your done tinkering with my insides,

do some sloppy suturing, so my wound won't

heal very nice, leaving  chance of infection,

to arise; since your surgical instruments;

weren't sterilized.

   Giving me a small chance to survive,

tho operation, but if I do,

you'll give me  your third degree in psychology;

for a nominal fee, naturally!

                                                          Kelly McManus