Last time I saw my heart, I left it there on my sleeve for you. I think. Remember I wore that floral dress? That was the day my heart went missing. It never left a note. No trail to follow. Not a word. Never bothered to even write a letter or postcard to tell me it was safe.
When I listened I heard your heartbeat, so I know yours was there. You still had it, even then. Alive, but it was bruised, I could see. Hearts always mend. And one day mine will come home.
indielikeastain 