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As she laid face down in the dirt she wept. Her tears falling on nothing except desert floor. No flowers, No life sprang up around her attempting to some how make her sadness worth it, No one came to pull her to her feet, No one really even noticed she had left, Not even God saw her misery.

Eventually her tears ran dry and the pain in her chest stopped long enough for her to make a final decision. She ripped her own heart out that day, Not because someone had hurt her, Not to bring closure to the subject, Nor to make the ultimate overly dramatic sacrifice. She simply wanted to free herself from a burden that she did not see the use in carrying any longer.

Most humans mark the emotional epicenter with the heart, even knowing full well it's the brain that controls feeling. No one really knows and those that do can't admit to themselves that we are all running solely on primal instincts and wants.

The day she ripped her heart from herself was the day she found out why it was really there, To weigh down all of the primal instincts. To detour us from what we want the most by causing the pain we have all learned to dread, Heartache.

With no heart to break, She roams the earth ripping the hearts from the chests of her lovers, Nothing but a demon of lust, The ultimate collector of the flesh, A zombie.

COMMENTS

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RedHuntress
03:37 Aug 15 2010

Profound. I would like to know more of her story.



--RedHuntress

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Seeker2112
12:37 Sep 08 2010

Very eloquent. I approve this message :)

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