emotionally undead.

[stone_color_sky]

I have the worst kind of heart.
worse than broken.
worse than black.
worse than no heart at all.
Mine's dead.
Dead but it doesn't know its dead yet.
And it beats but it doesn't beat
and it keeps going like nothing is wrong
functional but false.
The poltergeist of love.
Feelings that repeat time and again.
Burnt into the fabric of existence by their intensity,
but long faded, like photos pulled from the flood,
caked over in the basement of a derelict house.