Plump Indescretion

A hand weighted my lifeline ,
Allowing the juicy meat of my heart
To barely fly mere centimeters
Into the air.
Upon my heart,
A hand softly squeezed around the pulp skin.
Traces of blood ran down his wrist
Soiling the folds of his shirt cuffs.
Upon my heart,
He looked down the hump of his nose,
And sneered how “I feel too much.”

***To be revised and expanded later

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