She constantly finds herself staring into the dark grey sky
as thunder rumbles in the distance,
carefully holding her bleeding heart in the soft palms of her hands—
the same hands that once held those of her lover.
She glances back and forth.
The sky, the blood.
The sky, her palms.
The sky, her heart.
Feeling no pain, no remorse,
she stares hopelessly as the blood drips to the floor.
The thunder strikes again.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
She looks at her hands,
finding herself in a different world,
floating in the sky like the clouds moving swiftly before her eyes.
Vividly, she remembers telling her lover her heart was fragile.
As the blood drips,
drip, drip, drip,
the lightning flashes,
and she is thrown into a memory:
Her lover’s once-safe hands now grip a shining knife,
stabbing her heart once,
twice.
Agilely plucking her once love-filled heart
and dropping it into her hands.