Еviscerated i am all the days you choose to ignore

For you
my heart...
ripped from my chest.
Eviscerated,
I am.
And if I could,
I would plunge my fingers
through my chest
and rip out my heart
and give it to you.
A pulpy mass of morbid diathesis.

In addition to my heart,
there are some small organs
that want to give you:
glands...
sweetbreads...
variety meats.

I'm offering these gifts.
Rare gifts.

I know that
they don't amount to much
in the face of what you've given me.

I've heard these organs
can't survive outside the body
for more than a few hours.
But I'll try to get there as soon as I can.
Whatever happens, it will be on me.

On my heart.