Like the wishbone from a Thanksgiving turkey, this heart has been yanked in two directions and snapped in half by hands that should never meet.
Both pieces search for clarity oceans apart, sloshed around by intoxicating waves of love and guilt.
Like broken magnets that repel one another, this heart, my heart, refuses to be whole again.
Time has once again betrayed me. What is left, but to feast upon the emptiness of uncertainty?