“Tear the remnants of this organ out of my chest;
It was once whole when I was in love.
Heartbeat transitions into a flat line.
Remember the rate of my heart when it felt love?
Time can’t patch this broken wound.
The hands of the clock say no more love.
A dove once sat on my shoulder;
It was said to be a sign of budding love.
Then you crushed the dove with your hand.
The bird didn’t take flight, it was the love.”