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