What is a man without a heart?
Be he an empty husk,
Or a pit of woes?
His veins be black?
Broken, beaten?
Scrambled and flailing, to and fro,
Like a frantic octopus, sprouting red ink inside its empty host?
Be this a mark of a no heart man?
Hole agape, deep, disgusting, black as hell?
Wound broken, cut, and damaging his very soul?
Or just be it,
That he left it with you?