Your heart

~~I usually don't write in paragraph form. This is kinda really rare.~~

The acceleration of your heart:

The seemingly impossible ability to breathe escaping your lungs as you stare up at me. Hectic movements, a jerk here, a jerk there; a full swing composition of definite harmony, my body caught in a fevered dance of animosity. You stare, enviously, caught in the fear of my collapsing, but enthralled in my ability to excel. You stare, knowing this hate has consumed me, and my body howls for movement, to allow it to forget the all too painful presence dying within its own chest.

The acceleration of your heart:

While mine lays within my chest somberly, dying with every turn of my dance. My body declares I must move, I must be caught with a tide of never tiring movement, or I shall find myself strung in the webs of my past. My heart cannot beat, to declare its existence, to keep up with the dizzying movements of my arms and legs, for this body is not connected to soul, and this heart not connected to the life of the rest of me. I dance, sorrowfully waiting out its passing, my body not stilling at even its last beat, my soul not lurching forward to accept this defeat.

The acceleration of your heart:

In what you believe to be your love for me. You stare, reaching toward my rapturous dance of torment. You wish to catch a hand connected to life, but I wish you might wish to reach into my chest, and stop the passing of my heart so you may preserve my soul…