Heart out

My heart is hurting, and I know the cure

If I rip it out, it’ll heal for sure.

It’s useless to me where I am, here

It’s not like I use it, without you near.

I’ll place it, beating, into a box bright blue

I’ll send it by first class mail to you.

In bright red letters, I shall write on there:

Here is my heart. Handle with care.

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