You have pieces of my heart.
Consider them a late Christmas gift.
I don’t want them back. To have a mended heart? All patched and sewn up? Time to forget our dreams, hopes and foolish plans. Because here comes good ol’ closure. What’s closure but a murderer of the heart’s dreams.
What are dreams but images dancing during REM. But why sleep when you’re the constant protagonist. The star of the show. But when I awake, the curtain falls and I’m consumed by reality.
I just miss your heart. And your lips on mine. And the way our fingers twisted together like a perfect puzzle.
But, oh, how you loved. Fiercely, without judgement or fear. Beautifully and tenderly. Pure unabashed and unselfish love.
Even though you stole pieces of my heart.