An empty heart can still be seen, making the perfect mold to cast over. Strips, unevenly torn, of red and pink— the bits I kept that meant the most— are lightly brushed over with a blended mixture of wishful thinking and tears of “I Love You.” Decorated with ribbons, bows, and lace, helps keep everything in place. They overlap, trying to cover the pain from “We’re Over.” It’s how I see my heart— the perfect gift for myself.
Armed with a grey scale of thought, my eyes bleed magenta. I’ve felt the warmth in blue, burned by the intensity of white, misled by red, questioned yellow— yet I remain translucent to anticipation in display for the eyes of the world