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I think you collect hearts for sport.
My heart didn’t stand a chance. You knew what you were doing, you’re an expert huntsman.
I was the prey; who naively holds on to every word that you say.
You only want what you want, when you want it. You only want my love some of the time. I was trying to heal your heart. But you wouldn’t take the medicine as prescribed.
You run. Instead of healing your heart, you take mine.
Because that’s what you do; you collect hearts.
I was a foolish woman thinking you wanted to be healed. You just wanted my heart. I get it. It’s beautiful.
But I cannot let you have it. It cannot go in your collection.
I still need it.
But you do have a beautiful collection.
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This post was previously published on www.medium.com and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: unsplash.com
