i don't believe you. you're most difficult to read at the best of times. your words are raw and unpracticed. this is not what my heart needs right now. my mind is quick, draws conclusions you need not spell out. i know too much.
water drops gather on the window, spilling down, forming countless shapes. condensation forms inside, sympathy heart traced in, matching the shapes. the window's open, now, and the glass clears. the heart fades, looks half-broken.
heart beats slower, drum tapering to the rhythm: petals being plucked. one dozen flowers in a vase, artificial, a worn-out symbol. tiny petal shreds, a guessing game played and the answer: to be told.
i stole my heart back from you.