I leave a small black heart.
At the end of everything.
I do not specify.
Exactly whom it is I love.
I hope you’ll realize.

I left this little heart for you.
Do you love me too?
I’ve given you my heart
My thoughts, my everything.
No matter how cold.

Too many times before.
No previous times, have
Worked out well for me.
What will become of this
Black heart, this time?

I hope never to find you.
With a needle and thread.
Weaving white string
In and out of my heart, and your skin.
I love you, so dearly, you know that.

Though, perhaps.
Desire does not pertain to love.
I shouldn’t see you constantly.
You are only in my thoughts
Occasionally.

Well what if, we were
Attached at the hip?
Or our hearts sewn together.
Would we grow together
And fill in all the blank spaces?
Or try to cut our hearts apart?