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“The split is raw, like my skin has been unzipped and my chest is open, my heart climbs up and clambers out on aortic arms, dragging ventricles and veins, squeezed dry, old, blue and used. My lonely lungs will continue to breathe. Blood will make its own way to where it needs to be. I will live without the thumping beat, the throbbing beast, it belongs to you now, for a while at least. Please send it back, half full, with no hard feelings.” — Emma Glass
The split is raw, like my skin has been unzipped and my chest is open, my heart climbs up and clambers out on aortic arms, dragging ventricles and veins, squeezed dry, old, blue and used. My lonely lungs will continue to breathe. Blood will make its own way to where it needs to be. I will live without the thumping beat, the throbbing beast, it belongs to you now, for a while at least. Please send it back, half full, with no hard feelings.