At one point in my life, I allowed someone to take my mattered heart, of blood and cells and electrons from my precious body, while my spirit danced. They supercooled it in liquid nitrogen.
Held it up with gloved hands, in front of my eyes, went to the second-story balcony, and flung it into nothingness. Until it smashed into the somethingness, a million pieces on the wet Dutch concrete.
No one noticed but me, because no one looks up. He laughed and left, slamming the door behind him. The walls shook.
There was no comfort in this world, the drizzle???—???motregen, spit into my bones. And frankly, there many times my body wanted off that second-story balcony to follow my frozen heart.
Just smash me into a gazillion pieces and set soul free.
My soul had other plans. No matter how desperate life got.