My heart pumps, desperately, frantically
In the palm of her hand.
She has pulled it from my ribcage
Without so much as a gasp
Or some utterance of disgust
Even as crimson stains her skin;
Rather, she gazes at it with adoration.
I cannot speak anymore
and I cannot express the same.

I watched him, now
The pin prickly drops of a garish red
Seeps
From the uncareful lines he’d drawn on himself.
Slowly, that you’d have to watch
To notice it was even gathering on his skin.
He looks at me
For some sort of a reaction,
Though all I can think about is
The mess that should follow.
I tell him to stop, and
That is the end of it.