Her perspective of love isn't quite lovely.
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The doctors suspect critical heart injury.
So the surgeons performed a transplant on emergency.
Did their best but told her they couldn't save the rest.
They put the heart in the freezer and left it to its best.
Asked her what's her take but she shook her head.
She said, "It's almost dead. Just go away."
But they wrote her a personalized prescription anyway.
"Permanent stitches for the unforgiving wounds.
Anesthesia to get numb with pain.
Sleeping pills to sleep alone.
Anti depressants for plastic bliss.
And tranquilizers to fool her nerves."
It was placed on her bedside like a post-it love note.
Now it's in pieces under her bed and trench coat,
Together with her stash for a temporary nirvana,
While her heart grew cold in the surgical cellar.