Part 3

Sometimes it feels like

              you ripped the bleeding heart

straight out of my chest

             and chained the veins attached

into a noose around my neck.

                                     Then you leave,

off like nothing happened at all,

                    pulling tighter and tighter

until I can’t breathe

          less I allow you to drag me along,

dead pulse unbeating,

                               and blood pouring

onto the road behind us.

       And the worst part: I let you do it,

because I know

                     I won’t escape this prison

without losing that heart along the way.