The Funeral Of Hearts

All she sees is his back.
His black leather jacket that she had grown so used to,
Its leathery smell mixed with his,
Cigarettes and cologne,
Set her senses on fire,
Stinging her nose,
Curling her toes,
Legs turning to jelly,
Butterflies set free through her stomach, flutter gracefully
Filling it with velvet sickness.
Forever burned into her core.
But he keeps getting farther away.
She is losing sight of the jacket,
Of the one guy who she let in.
She gave him her tattered, bandaged, glued heart,
But he didn’t want it.
He thought he was in too deep,
So he handed the fragile pieces back to her,
Now he is gone completely,
So she is left
Glossy eyed,
And frozen,
Staring down the empty road.
Her hand unclasps,
And her already bruised and broken heart,
Falls to pieces.