Don't get too close,
they never told me if it's contagious ,
or not.
My heart is broken,
not hurt, like yours,
but it truly beats out of time.
It beats like a seizing drummer;
all panicked and hanging on
for dear life,
like two little sticks
can spare the strife.
He's mistaken,
that little drummer boy,
for his clock never ticks
the way it was meant to.
It does get bigger, though,
but they tell me that's bad too.
It doesn't grow like a flowering love,
No.
It enlarges like it's dying
from working overtime
all the time.
Don't add to it's burden, please.
Just take what you want
and leave.
Leave the rest of this diseased part for me.
I need every ounce it has
to survive as long as I can.
Don't get too close.
Don't drain what's left of me.
I need this heart to breath.