I don't remember much of that day.
Can't even recall how it began.
I just think I remember something.
Faces. People. Tools.
Doctors milling around.
They seemed to be congratulating each other.
Apparently, something succeeded.
My skin was cold against the metal table.
"What happened?" I tried to ask.
I doubt it came out quite right.
"It's done. The surgery is over," one said.
They tried to explain.
I couldn't hear them.
What surgery?
I tried to raise up.
"Slowly. You're still out of it."
My hand ran across my chest.
There were stitches across it.
"What did you do?"
"Removed your heart. You'll thank us."
Now, it seems like a dream.
Not sure if it really happened.
I can't thank them.
I can't feel.
I wish it was just a dream,
But sometimes...
I still feel the scars.