• My body left helplessly sick. For scars in my heart are still unhealed. Blisters and bruises still blemishes my skin. Wounded and hurt. It remains from my last losing fight with love. I can still feel my heart bleeding and bleeding. For he used to rip, stab, slay, and tore my heart into a million of pieces. He left me searching, collecting and mending, search, collect and mend the pieces of my heart all by myself. He turned the world all upon me. Nobody will help the poor heart picker gathering its scattered pieces of heart. Nobody. Nobody will.
    As I finaly collected most of my pieces of broken heart, some are still left behind. Maybe it is burried inside garbage bins which are too deep for my hand to burrow in. With my leftover pieces of flesh and blood, I carefully sew my heart back together. Which some parts missing here and there, blood flowing through the holes I left. Drop by drop. Through the spaces I left for my heart to grow back. It drops and drops and drops.

    Then I grew stronger, still trying to be careful not to ever fall in love again. But I couldn’t. Its you. I never know you, and I never meant to. You suddenly steal my mind. I cried, gaping for my mind, jumping and screaming for I promise myself not to fall in love again, even with a different man. But I couldn’t help it

    Somehow my heart and body has its own language, which neither can understand each other. My body says ‘’Stop, it’s enough! I could not afford to carry more pain”. But my heart wont listen, she said “Go! Go love him, he seems nice. He is stealing your mind, sweetheart. Love him, with all your heart”. My body is torn apart, my soul dwells in between. Left or right? North or South?

    I tried to listen to my body, trying to let you go out of my mind. But I couldn’t. Your face, and your eyes, and your voice, and your skin keeps on twirling around my heart, like moths surrounding the only light in the night. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help it at all.

    My heart, it pounded on fire. Everytime you’re near me, blood squirts through the unhealed scars of my heart. Everytime you touch me it beats harder and harder. Then blood spilled out more and more, trying to make its way out of my excited heart. My poorly mended heart began to rip apart again. Leaving gaping holes here and there. Holes that are big enough for my blood to flow ferociously. It flows and flows until God knows when, my heart would stop beating due to the lack of blood which filled my unused organs.

    Its too late, I know its too late.My heart couldn’t help loving you. My heart cant help getting in pain again, it sore, bleeding, dying. It really couldn’t help itself.

    I know it was never your fault for making me in love. However, now, my heart very much is relying on you. Would you leave my heart bleeding, stabbing it harder into hundred million pieces for me to gather once more. Or would you cure my heart? Mending every piece with a stronger thread, with a strong glue, perhaps? Until my heart would beat lively again, healthy and strong, with blood rushing once again all over my body, not dripping through it.

    Would you? Would you do that?

    Would you even notice?