Made up of two halves,

the heart is divided by the septum.

 

Where did the rift between us occur?

Left subclavian artery or aortic arch?

Perhaps the right atrium, always pulsing,

pumping out those feelings.

 

Or was it the oh so superior vena cava?

Most likely the inferior.

My inferior vena cava has always felt, well, inferior.

 

After all our history, your footprints

were all over my pericardium.

How could they not be

after confessing every heartbreak

every fear, every shameful secret?

 

And each triumph

when shared with you

more meaningful.

 

When you abandoned me

my left common carotid artery

bled out.

I was half a person

with half a heart.

 

I blame the septum.

Always divisive, controlling

what comes in and what goes out.

Published in Soul of the Narrator Anthology Vol. III, Fall 2012