You have broken my heart, for the hundredth time.
you have made a laceration from the top of my rib cage where my collar bones dip, all the way down to my pelvis.
You then proceeded to pull my skin back, crack my rib cage open like you crack a wish bone on Christmas day, free and full of joy.
Then you put your hand deep inside, underneath the gristle, you fingered your way to my heart.
Low and behold, a ritual you performed fortnightly!
You broke my heart in two! Right down the middle, you sucked the juices from it, the way you sucked a mango, strong and full of conviction.
Was it sweet, having me drip from your lips?
About the Creator
The Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
By Leslie Staven5 days ago in Fiction
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