“IF YOU’RE SO FULL OF LOVE, WHY DON’T YOU GIVE YOURSELF SOME?” but I have spared some for the same—or more—couple amount. A solid one forged by emotions, parted into two; for the love to keep and for the love to give. Half portion of a heart might be served erelong, there existed another separate plate being offered to the person sitting across my dining table. Not less than for someone who prepared it or anybody whom I think may be hungry and used to feed me back in the days. I shall never eat from your plate, it’s yours and so I already have mine. They understand nothing about learning how to maintain the shape of my gut, a manner as a yearner. Did I say offered? Oh, you should’ve known it so well... sounds ironic for any smallest bit of a heart to possibly ended up at someplace disregarded, so long as it went ahead to be decomposed.