A part of me.

A poem of lost love

Shivering alone in an empty cavity, I can hear it beating. Slow and monotonous, it pumps tired blood. It used to be so strong! Wildly it would beat to the songs of laughter. Now its melancholy musings hum poemless whispers. It used to be a part of another. In harmony they would beat out passion's dying echoes. But they were ripped apart. One to survive on a path of hardship, the other to trudge a path of misery. No two hearts were meant to beat alone. I hear it whisper softly-full of tenderness and compassion-to its hardened prodigal half, "My heart, if we never beat together again, you'll always be a part of me."