• It hurts to breath...

    It hurts to speak...

    How can you do this to me?

    You made me, gave me life. A meaning to live a life.

    You made me smile, laugh, and love. These are the things I cherished. No longer was a small little doll that was hiding in the corner of the toy box.

    I was the doll that stood on display, just for your eyes.

    But why did you mistreat my heart?

    I gave you my heart, tore it right from my chest. I wrapped it up in a pretty gift box and tied a big red box on top. "Here, this is my heart. You keep it. You are the keeper of my heart my beloved."

    You smiled and whispered those three words that made me kiss you.

    You treated my heart like a gem.

    A rare object that needed a great amount of attention and care. You treated me rightly and I fell more and more in love with you.

    Until another doll fell into your hands.

    She was broken, torn apart limb from limb. You whispered comforting things and helped her place those mislocated limbs back in place.

    I watched, unsure if I should react. You never came close to me nor even whispered sweet nothings into my ear. If I needed something I had to demand it and you looked at me as if I was spoiled.

    The doll cried.

    She cried all day and night for you whenever you suddenly wanted to give me attention. You went to her side and cuddled her. Kissed her, hugged her, and said those three words.

    She smiles and whispers them back and begs you to never leave her.

    Now look, here she comes with her heart in a gift box just for you. Where is my own?

    There, abandoned on the top shelf where it collects dust.

    I leave you and your new doll alone. I scramble around to find a way to find a new heart. One that isn't old or cracked.

    But I can't find it.