Piece after piece

Please, break my heart.

It yearns for it,

rancour oft heaves it.

It longs to depart.

I know full well that you can offer nothing but crumbs, but it is ready, ready to feast on every minute you will carelessly let fall.

After that, you will break my heart, if you have the heart to.

Please, break my heart.

It wants just that.

It will grow all mat,

hence easier to tear apart.

It has no care for whatever this world proffers. 'Tis too bland, or too colourful to be trusted.

It has tasted the sweet sapidity of your lips. It cares for nought else but the beatings your hands command. Do what you will, my heart has no care for this sordid world.

Then, you will break my heart, if your heart wills it.

Please, break my heart,

'Tis the sole thing left

to do as it is bereft,

its soul but one, vivid smart.

Only the heart that has abandoned all protection and instinct of preservation knows the ones which erect tall ramparts about them. I know you have such a heart. Mine is bare and will suffer the onslaught of your newfound liberty. You will recover and be whole again, thanks to and because of the breaking of my heart, for your heart needs a sacrifice in its stead.

Soon, you will break my heart, unwholeheartedly.

Please, please break my heart!

And do not quicken the split

as one does when he a throat slits.

The rend should run athwart.

My heart knows the signs. The time is approaching.

Some wounds leave the healer speechless for they are beyond his power to ease.

The wounded heart knows what the whole one can't.

My hearts craves to feel everything and someday you will understand what it feels now, dwelling in the mire of your urges, so many tweaks your demands claimed, all, all but for a breath.

Now that you have broken my heart,

Tensed up the shivers and heaves in my chest,

Now that I have died at your behest,

Please, leave the smithereens to scatter apart.