FicWad

Hope you read it and if you do, rate&review. I've never posted anything close to poetry on this site before and I realize that this, too, is not quite the traditional poem but it's not exactly a story, either. Just something that I was unable to get out of my head.

I'm posting this now on the MCR section, I guess you could bitch about it but I'll just state the fact that it's written in somebody's point of view and if you'll start something, the problem is solved by me declaring the p.o.v Ray's.






You could've smashed it, and taken it out with the empty milk cartons and dried out banana peels.
You could've sold it for a reasonable sum of benjamins.
You could've experimented on it and quenched your curiosity.
You could've left it out in the sun to bronze and dry, and smoked it by the bonfire.
You could've sliced it into cubes and chewed on it.
And it wouldn't have hurt half as much.

Here, I want you to take this back.

Here, take good care of it.

Here, I don't want it anymore.

It was not a heart broken, but a heart returned.
An organ delivered back to my doorstep. No return fee. No handling expenses. A sorrowful policy.
My hands trembled as I reached out to you. I felt a lump in my throat that moved as I breathed and with a heavy swallow, the lump descended into my chest with a thud.

Here, you can have it back.

The thing felt heavy inside me, a burden for my rib cage that was already squeaking and creaking, crying in protest. The lump gave my lungs not enough space and oxygen flowed through my veins at a slower pace. A dizzying pace.

Here, take good care of it.

I wanted to stab it. A broken heart I may have known the ways to heal, but a useless heart I did not know how to occupy.
The space it took wasn't nearly enough to fill up the void you left.
You walked away slowly, gracefully.
You turned to look at me every five steps, and the smile made of sadness you wore confirmed what we both already knew - I had lost you a long time ago.

Closing my eyes, I pretended this wasn't happening, though I felt every moment of it, felt it like it was the last thing I'd ever feel.

I'm guessing you would've gone sooner.
I'm guessing you would've walked faster.
I'm guessing you just never really trusted me with my own heart.
And, I'm guessing you had a reason not to.



I positioned myself on the concrete, on all fours, and I bent over.
I gagged and coughed, I grunted and wheezed, I spit and cackled.
The lump protested and kicked, pulsating in a sickly violent way.
And there it went, down the ink black drain like a bullet through a water pipe, colliding with the polluted, gray water of the sewer.
Rat food, it was good for.




There, I don't want it anymore.