For the past 19 years
My heart has been dormant.
The cobwebs of loneliness and longing
Make intricate patterns around its bruised and beaten frame.

It runs on little,
With inconsistent beats that continue my breathing.
This heart is rather cold
From endless nights and dragging days
I fear for my heart
For it is hungry.

And it will take any opportunity it can get
At the first sight of affection
To feel something, anything at all.