in a city where emotions were a solid material — touchable, I found myself on a dimly lit film set. the director calling out scenes from an unseen script. the cameras rolled as I took your heart, a glowing, pulsing orb, and swallowed it whole. It filled me with warmth, feeling its weight and pulse to become one with my own, beating the same rhythm, but almost immediately, you demanded its return. hesitantly, I spit it out, the heart was glistening and alive, crawling out of my mouth.
still, I determined. the thought of having another chance made me capture your heart again, swallowing it inside. this time, it fought back by itself, clawing its way free, demanding for freedom. defeated, I watched as it fled out, leaving me once again.
the scene shifted. you approached me this time, eyes gleaming, and asked for my heart. I offered it willingly, hoping that in giving you my heart, I might find a way to match your rhythm. If you couldn’t become mine, then I would be the one to be yours. you swallowed it at once, and for a moment, I saw my heart’s light shining through your skin, illuminating you from within.
but then, the director yelled for a sudden cruel twist, you turned and ran with my heart was still inside you. the set around me darkened, the cameras and crew fading into the shadows as I stood there alone. my chest ached with the absence of my heart; beatless, breathless, lifeless. I called out into the emptiness, “I want it back now, baby. I want it back.”
yet, the only answer was the echo of my own voice, roaring through the empty set, a haunting reminder of the scene we had just played out, over and over, in this city where love was as fleeting and untamed as the heart itself.
