Valentine

I cut my heart in two a few minutes ago, and watched while it went through its paces.

It didn't look anything like I thought.

My heart just sat there looking at me. I wasn't sure if it liked what it was seeing, or if it was sad because I was looking at it like I couldn't believe that I was seeing my own heart.

I saw I'd made a terrible mess of things, and that it was probably a mistake to look at my heart with the belief that it was any different from any other heart.

But my heart is different from every other heart, I thought. Since it's my heart there's no other heart like it, though it might look like every other heart looks when it's cut open.

Even with my heart so open, maybe only I can see what's there, though I like to think that others can see my heart too if and when I'm brave enough to show them.

I wanted to give half of my heart to somebody else, but I was home alone at the time and was enjoying having my heart all to myself.