In my hand I hold your cold dead heart, not some semblance of it, but a absolute monstrosity, torn apart.

Were you able to see it, I'm sure you would agree, it's dark ,black, simply ugly.

I've considered dropping it off, at the post office you see, mail it as far away as can be.

Have it placed in, an iron box in chains, sunk to the bottom of the ocean, in Davies locker,it would remain.

Every time I get up, to do just that, I squeeze at bit harder, with both hands.
Refusing to release it,let it go. In fear, I am not sure why, your dead, I fallow, must go. ©