I thought I had killed my heart,
But I hear in beating beneath the floorboards,
Covered in dust, hair, and neglect,
But still beating nonetheless, pushing against my ribs,
Until they may crack, a jailbreak long overdue.
Is my heart flying away or into your arms?
I am overly aware of everything,
Every muscle, every blink, every breath,
Yet my mind is blank, so is my heart doing the thinking?
Socrates viewed the soul as three distinct parts:
The wisdom, The desire, and The moderation.
When I have you in my sights, there is only desire.
I thought I killed my heart but in the end,
My heart might just kill me.
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Lou.Summers 