Open heart
Open wound
I’ve been trying to stop the bleeding
But the thread’s too weak.
The tourniquets I’ve tied won’t hold.
The words I’ve tried….

You called.

You came in,
Sent electricity to my heart
And then you removed it.
Walked out–
Gone dark.

And I’m left lying here on the table unable to move.

My vision stares out at the empty fluorescent, white walls. My eyes glaze over and the familiar objects I once knew become blurred as they lose their shape.

The cold, metal table underneath me becomes my final place.

Cords are still connected, forcing my lungs to breath, but there is no heart, just a temporary machine attempting to pump the blood.

I no longer move.