the sky is cold when i tell you that i don't have a heart.

'of course you do,' you tell me. 'you have to.'

but i don't. and you spent so many minutes of that day trying to find my heartbeat, your warm fingers on my icy wrists, searching and searching for something you couldn't find.

and it hurts that even you couldn't prove me wrong.

i drew a chalk heart on my concrete drive way and pretended it replaced my missing one.

but it was lopsided and terrible. the rain ended up washing it away in the end, and i could only stand there in the rain and watch as my messy scribbles faded away.

the next day, i wrote my heart a letter, asking it if it missed me.

the reply said i'm sorry, but i just can't miss you. i just can't.

i hated that i understood why.