“Put your heart in my hands, let me play with it”

– Can you promise me that you won’t drop it?

– Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.

She gives him the beating heart, red and glowing. The hole in her chest gets swollen, oozing with blood as she wheezes, trying to stand up on both feet.

The knife of Trust and Love is too sharp for her, it cuts right into her chest as she voluntarily, using her own two hands to pierce the tip right in the middle. It was nothing, but pain and love. All she could think of is how much she loves those trusting brown eyes and the way he shows her off to his friends. That is, to her, as stupid and pathetic as that might be, is enough. Enough for her to give him her only reason to live, to give him her source of life and the generator of her breaths.

His eyes glow up when she puts it in his hands. Such a beautiful object, he thinks. Such a precious thing lying here in his hands, slowly beating and radiating. He wants to throw it in the air, see how it flies and throws it on the ground see how it bounces. Oh yeah, he also wants to bring it to his ex-girlfriend, shows her how damaged and dented it gets day by day from bouncing around in his briefcase. More than that, he wants to casually use it as a key chain to the brand new Mercedes under her name to go to parties and pick up some chicks. He wants to do all these horrible things with its presence without any acknowledgment, that she can feel what it feels.

You thought you’re rational and logical enough to know people well.

you thought you could easily exclude one’s existence out of your life because you know, they are no good to you.

Well, sometimes, you’re not that strong.

You can not act like you’re strong forever.

You would still, trust the wrong ones.

 

 

 

It was a stormy day and a harsh night. I did not drink any tea. I should sleep.

 

 

 

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