"The Second Kind: Holding Someone Else's Love"

There is an awkward feeling
like the awkwardness of a bruise
when you're cornered into the burden
of carrying someone else's one-sided love.
There are some who abuse
and then there are some of us
who are placed in another type of situation.

The second kind, cup their hands
and are faced with lump plopped into them.
It is a deformed and slimy organ
that is as red as the rawness of meat.
It is deformed because hearts that are not whole
are grotesque as such.
Only complete, two-sided loved ones
form that simple stenciled heart.

And there is a person, staring you in the face
while you look at this thing.
Afraid to move, as the wrong one could
split it in two or cause it some sort of heart attack.
You feel nothing else but worry,
unlike the typical abuser.
And you start to grow somber
since no ideas are being born in your mind.
And any moment from here on,
will result in horror and terror
since you will have to move,
in order to return it.

Without malice or malcontent
you realize that from this point on
you will be as hated as the abuser-kind.
A painful truth is best than a lovely lie.
Regardless, you will be hated the same.
It doesn't matter what intentions you have
or with what care you hold it,
the heart will break upon return
to its jail of a home.
And you will forever be the breaker
to the break-ee.

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-10:43pm.. written online only.