Here’s my heart.
What’s left of it,
see the remnants partially stitched together,
with cheap thread,
it’s fate I dread.
Swaddle my heart in the palm of your hand,
and let nothing but your palms touch it.
Not a drop of rain,
or a stab of pain,
Not a prick -
quick,
My heart still beats, but its faint,
half dead,
a trembling…