For every heart broken, a story is gained,
Every hypothetical forever I entertained,
Now merely an anecdote
Of how I used to dote
And I wrote, and I wrote
And I'm so sorry that all you are now
Is just another story I tell

What is the concept of mortality?
To be loved? To be feared? To feel so passionately, when we know we are only to meet inevitable tragedy?

In the arms of a lover, we must ask ourselves these things.
What is the weight of mortality?
How much value is emotion to such fragile, time-sensitive creatures?
What is to be gained, or conversely lost in the game of life?

The terms of business are simple.
The rules of emotion are not.

The price tags on emotional attachment must be calculated.
What is the return policy on a kiss?
What is the punishment if it's stolen?

And how can he come to my doorstep
Seeking a refund of my battered, beaten heart,
Leaving it to rot in a plastic bag that tells me to "Have a Nice Day!"
That cheeky, yellow smile holds nothing for me now.

A defective product, is what he told me.
Take it back
I don't want it anymore.

He told her she had a beautiful scream.
She tried to be defiant, not to scream again,
But he did unspeakable things.
When he let her go,
She never spoke again.