I’ve missed you  
and writing this
has been long        overdue,

       I gave you my heart
though it tore apart,

you halved it with your words–
       your ever so charming choice
of vocabulary:
       the knife
which shred it open.

Now if I hand you
       the device which
              pumps the air into my lungs
                     and allows the flow of life
              into my veins
       would you tape it back together
into a functioning pump?

or would you        throw it
into the well
and        drown me along
secluded within such thoughts?

Perhaps I
       must ask
              myself
first.