I was born, I am told, with my heart on my sleeve. A fistful of sinew that would bind me to love, all consuming, obsessive, unreasonable, a result of simple theft, of a willingness to trust the light fingers that brush my arm.
With my heart on my sleeve, I wandered into you. And you took my heart and you left, without knowing you would leave me bereft.
Without even the ability to awake my limbs and feed my starving mind, until I wander into you again, and remember to reclaim what I have lost to you.
If I ever see you again, I must remember to swallow my traitorous heart, that would follow you everywhere, but home.
2 comments:
Unrequitted is the word that comes to the mind
The problem with that term, is that its not love. Its just obsession, a rather dangerous all consuming kind. The ability to make someone incredibly important based on nothing.
Well nothing logical or rational certainly.
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