If ever I loved you: You are in my veins. We have traded cells--a filament of my heart wrapped somewhere 'round your bones. I sometimes feel your heart beat. It tickles me behind the ear or scratches my finger tips--a tingling sensation. It catches me off guard, makes me blink. I send you love, joy, sorrow. Maybe you don't feel it. When you die, a piece of me will ache. Forever. I wish sometimes that I could gather all my pieces together and bind them in the shape of myself. But, this would only serve to jail them--and me. So, I am destined to lay--splayed open and bleeding--submitted to the frailty of love. Each capillary cut or broken: a nagging bruise, a painful ache. Each artery joyful and flowing: a life force. Such abundance eases the pain of loss. Yet, My heart lie open, trying to breathe air.