Stitched at the Heart

The gaping holes in our chests are exposed to the outside world.  Our hearts are sure to be infected by the poison of insanity circulating throughout the world we live in.  They’re pulsing but the imperfections of the world are suffocating them.  Our hearts were the only things we could hear, but the sound is fainting as our heartbeats are slowing down in unison, saturating our love for each other with haunting silence.  The world is not going to separate us, it doesn’t understand the love we have.  Bring yourself closer to me, I’m going to fix this.

I take a thread and needle and prepare to pierce it through my love and I.  Our hearts are meant for each other, not the outside world.  I begin sewing through the edges of the gaping holes in our chests that left our hearts exposed.  As time progressed, stitch by stitch, our innards began to exchange heat to melt the ice covering our organs.  Our heartbeats were beginning to pulse more rapidly while blood erupted from the arteries.  I was careful to not puncture our hearts with the needle accidentally while sewing through the muscle and tissue forming the holes in our chests.  She was very trusting of my ability, knowing how cautious I am in order to preserve our love.  With skill and precision of an artist, I was constructing a true masterpiece.

As I came to the final stitch, I looked into her eyes and saw my reflection.   I see myself in her and she sees herself in me.  We were meant to be stitched at the heart.  The process is complete, each time my heart beats it lightly touches hers and vice versa.  Soon enough the stitches will disintegrate and we’ll be fused permanently.  Our hearts used to live in two separate chambers within ourselves.  Now our hearts coexist in one dark chamber where our love can thrive together.  This is the closest I can ever get to your heart.