She’d sew her heart to his
So patiently, and perfectly
And dig the stitches too deep
Into the grave known as his chest
She’d take him apart
and claim him as her own
And tie them tourniquet style
Beating in unison
He would always say
it would never hurt
And she’d laugh
and say he was only a liar
she held him so tight
Strangling, and bruising his fragility
And he died so subtly
But his heart still beats
so patiently, and oh so perfectly
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