she held the weapon in her hand,
cut open her chest,
and handed him herself.
her heart was torn, willingly,
pulsating in his hand.
he was her life,
he was her reason,
and she handed him hers infront of him.
she was devoted,
she was gold,
she couldn't love another,
only the one who held her heart in their hands.
she asked him to cradle it,
she asked him to care for it,
she asked him to love it, and nurture it.
and so he did,
he hugged it,
and he fed it,
with adoration and love,
but the next thing she knew,
he had played too hard.
he had crushed it,
and bruised it,
battered alive,
she was blind,
she did not realise he had used it,
and lied.
and so he walked away,
after feeling uninterested,
he took her heart with her,
and left her to bleed,
she cried,
she tried,
but it still wasn't enough.
she knew that someday she'd see him,
and it would be tough.
