Yesterday, I felt my bruised heart slip from the prison of my ribcage and fall so far from my kite string veins that they forgot it ever even existed. The emptiness it left in my chest has become a churning whirlpool of emotions. I do not know which ones exactly are struggling to break free from the storm, but I do know that I can feel every bone, every organ inside of me burning.

Yesterday, I could feel sheet music scrawled over the inside of my broken lungs; but the tears and blood my heart had left as it brushed past them during its descent had stained it. The notes had blended together so the crescendos and decrescendos faded like the sun from the sky. I croaked out cacophony in place of melodies.

Yesterday, my pupils disintegrated in my eye sockets. Before my vision went hazy and slipped away over the horizon, I stretched it across the plane between our untouched hands and stole one last glance. You didn't even notice my hand waving goodbye from behind the tear-streaked windowpane.

That was the last real moment I believed this storm would let me out alive- but now I can feel the heaviness of forever balancing blue skies with blood. The pieces of me have congealed, and trickle out of my empty orifices, slowly, like wax dripping from the top of a lava lamp that's just heating up.

Yesterday, I decided that you are a mystery I will promise never to solve.
(My body has disintegrated- there's not much time left for me anyway.)

And I promised never to shed any more tears over you.
(You were never mine to lose.)

They say that we are most alive in that moment right before death.
(Is this what being alive feels like?)

I can feel myself fading away.