I have never understood my own heart,
For its flutterbeat rhythm belongs to a ballad
whose notes I could not decipher,
And whispers its lyrics in frequencies
I fall short of hearing.

My heart beats for two, this I cannot forget —
For there is a dead girl waiting for her hollowed heart,
Barefoot on the banks of the River Lethe,
stuck with the souls roaming the land of the lost,
with the cold rush of black waters biting at numb feet.

There is a dead girl waiting in the immortal night,
Whose heart recites memories and seeks its own mysteries —
Now all the mysteries I am concerned with
are found in the touch of a cold blade against skin,
As though it is where I can get my fill of eternity.

There is a gone girl whose heart I feel for,
Who has once known the places I seek forever from —
For she has known eternity, once upon a time,
and lost her chance at it,
Left to be forgotten, heart for mine to steal.

And her life, I am left to live
Like shattered glass for all to see
and to bleed on and to wonder on my empty gaze,
Forgetting that I, too, don't always know who this heart of mine beats for
— though I know the lost search it lives for.