1:11

11:11

He looked at me, with a tear sliding down his cheek.  “I seem to have broken my heart.” Staying silent, I painted shadows on my face.  In my mind, I saw pieces of my own heart resting on his shoulder.  I wonder if I could brush them off, but I assumed I’d look weird trying.  I had to glance away, my eyes are too easy to read now.

You trail off, as I tear apart.  I wonder if I have somehow switched the sensation of heart break for heartbeat, because the former seems so much more comfortable than the latter.

2:22

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