Thief be damned

you have no right
to the heart I fairly stole from another
in order to keep
my broken open chest from seizing.
So what if I did not love?
How could I,
once my own heart was savaged?
In turn

we take from another
who takes from another
who takes from another,

and so perhaps I have earned
your clutching fist inside my chest,
squeezing the last of hope’s blood
from a relic I never owned
and never should’ve been given
for safekeeping.

heart —

you never belonged to me.
Perhaps this
is the lesson we learn.

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About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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