Poet Dave Mclennon

How should I start this?

Separated?

Torn?

Ripped open my chest cavity exposing my heart. Stood beside myself as I watched me get stabbed one thousand four hundred and sixty times. The heart oozed fire and gushed ice, the blade melted then froze in my heart. The jagged teeth refused to leave the lavish core. I stood watching the carnage unfold, I watched every ounce of fire and ice drop, I watched until it stopped. The blade exited the wound, to my amazement the heart rained blood. A blood so red it could not be matched it if you mixed all reds. A blood so red you could see ancestors embedded. As I stood. It dawned on me, this is how it must feel when the soul leaves the body and tells the corpse its final goodbye. I stayed outside until the rainstorm ended. Before I re-entered, I dismantled my heart. I oiled, greased, and cleaned it. Then reassembled my heart. Placed it in its prior location and watched it beat. Gazing at the wound, now scar. I paused and thought to myself how the exterior of my heart resembled comets screaming through the sky, slashing the black of night stalled in time. I stepped back into me, closed my chest cavity concealing my heart.

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