Can you feel my heart?

Is it still beating?
My heart has to break for me to know it’s still there.

That familiar ache in my chest returns.

I can feel your heart.

I don’t need to lay my hand or my head on your chest to

hear it,

feel it,

see it;

you wear it on your sleeve.

I hear it in your voice when you soothe me.

I feel it in your hands when you brush my hair after I’ve showered,

gently detangling the knots [of my heart].

I feel it in your arms when you hold me when I cry [not about you],

but now I do.

I feel our hearts, in my pulse, as it races

at the thought of you.

It used to do this, in the beginning, when I was

excited by the thought of you. But now I am

anxious at the thought of you,

leaving me,

leaving my heart.

Because who will feel my heart then,

if not you?