you are not the one
i fight for,
only an image in my mind.
i cut out my heart for you.
i hold you,
wish you were holding me,
wish you had thought of me.
our fingers brushed once,
burned.
now my scars are
too deep
to heal,
my skin is wrinkled,
too old to recognize
anymore.
i wish you had fought for me,
held me close,
ignored the burning,
instead of turning to run
at the first sign of hurt.
but i cut out my heart,
this plastic thing,
and held it up for the birds
to feast on.
and they did,
ate it all until i had nothing left,
i was alone.
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