Sometimes as I lie in bed

Or walk these halls alone...

I look down at the hole in my chest-

And wonder where my heart has gone.

I wonder if it has run away

Or simply disappeared.

I try to imagine the events,

Which caused it to not be here.

I listen for its thumping,

But hear nothing but the sound

Of my own shallow breathing,

No heartbeat to be found.

The truth is that I cut it out,

And gave it to a friend.

Who decided it was not the one,

And gave it back again.

So I just continued on my way,

My heart all ripped and torn.

Hoping that perhaps someday

It would be as it was before.

Then not too long after

My poor heart had finally healed,

I jerked it right back out

For one who knew not how to feel.

My sad, lonely heart was bleeding

The tears that would not come.

So I slid it back into my chest

Before it wrecked the linoleum.

By then my heart was tired

Of this silly little game.

He was happy right where he was

And weary of a change.

Yet still I refused to keep him,

Safely locked away.

Instead I thrust him into the hands

Of a boy I met one day.

But something different happened this time

I thought it rather strange.

That when I gave this boy my heart,

He gave me his in exchange.

So now I sit here without my heart,

But the space inside is filled.

Because somewhere it is pumping blood

With love that must be real.