The ultimate sacrifice of the body
for the mind of the heart's half,
the other side that's beating,
not your own (now irregular) palpitations.
Build a fine line under tissues, drawn in secrecy,
hollow out the inner chambers
to keep the illusion of a whole.
Ready them for doing what you have to,
everything,
no guilt too hard
to hold tightly and bury into fists
clenched and unclenched
like jaws
biting back.
What is a child born to save?
It will not bind these two halves
breaking,
it will grow in the crevice
cracking like husks in the sun,
blossoming like new possibilities
and long lost ideas
of how happiness is defined
in one's own half
smiling.