Twins, She Said

“Twins,” she said. That is when my heart split.
The left ventricle flew out and landed in her.
And the right ventricle became a pulsar,
Beaming at her again and again.

“Here we go again,” I mumbled to myself soundlessly,
“One body for you, one body for me.”
Dreading the heart ache any minute now, I said,
“This body longs for you, I got nothing to do with it!”

A second later, all the future time became compressed,
And sat like a stone in my right ventricle.
Beaming diamonds at her, and cutting my heart
Down to size at every beam.

Featured image: Schlafender Knabe im Heu by Albert Anker (1897) via

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