"How could you?"
I gasped.

The dagger
slid from its sheath of flesh,
and my heart
slowed.

I was so cold.
My blood pooled on the ground
beneath me.
It was cold.

Who would betray me this way?
Surely not you.
Not you.
"How could you?"

The brave knight
only protected himself;
there was room on his steed
for a passenger,
but he did not deliver me from the battle.

That cold autumn night,
we fought
the most ferocious of battles:
the battle of the heart.
But the enemy was too strong.
That night, he fled
and left me
for dead.

His dagger pierced my heart.
I thought I was dying.
And when I didn't,
I prayed that I would.

And now
I am mended,
without so much as a scar.
But this heart is not my own.
Surgery couldn't save it
in my weakened state;
the doctors replaced
the heart that would have died.
Now I'm just lights and clockwork.

My dear Sir Knight,
it seems I am hollow
without you.