Heartbeat

Feel my heartbeat. Someone, please. Is it still there? I thought I felt it stop, its last beat a flutter, unheard and unnoticed. Isn't that the way heartbreak always goes? It lingers in the shadows, it battles in the darkness; the face hides what the heart feels. We don't want them to know: our own personal conspiracy.

No wait, what was that? Please listen to it again. I'm sure I thought I felt it pump one time more. I saw something and it echoed the emotion with its hollow ventricles. A false alarm? Oh, I'm sorry then for wasting your time. It seems I do nothing but waste people's time - their time and my emotion. I get caught up in the excitement of my own fantasies as they play across the cinema in my mind, but spend too little time here in reality, seeing that my fantasies aren't even based on a grain of truth. My escapism is only escapism only because it is so far removed from what is happening in my life. It's exhausting, this double life of mine. I just need someone to bring me back to reality, and prove to me that it can be more worthwhile than dreaming.