I tossed my heart into the ocean.
The raging waves throw it harshly back and forth.
It is jolted up into the crest of a wave and is infected by
the unclean foam.
Next, it is thrust towards the angry water as the wave
unleashes its power.
The force is so great that my heart is pounded into the
rough ocean floor.
Relentless weeds of the sea unwelcomely embrace my heart.
It is trapped.
It is choked.
It can’t breathe.
The slippery sea weeds refuse to unhand the lost organ,
until the mighty water intervenes.
With a startling, forceful pull, the greedy water snatches my heart from
the ocean parasites.
Once again, the beating thing is thrown into the clutches of
the waves.
It is shoved, pushed, and pulled in every which way.
As the tide rolls in, my heart is slammed into the sides of
boulders and rocks,
Along the treacherous shore.
It breaks.
It bleeds.
It can’t fight any longer.
The abused organ eventually stops in a slimy, gritty pit of
sand on the shore.
The grains of sand work their way into the cuts and wounds on
my heart.
They create a sharp sting.
Sunlight scorches and bakes it in the sun.
The salt has parched my precious heart.
The angry seagulls peck at it and create fresh wounds that sear
with new pain.
So unsettled.
So disturbed.
So upset.
My heart.
Many days passed.
A pair of hands appear.
They surround my heart.
Soft yet sturdy hands.
My heart is then cleaned with the purest water.
The relentless stinging ceases.
The cuts, abrasions, and bruises disappear.
My heart regains its rich, lively color.
The precious hands love it tenderly.
Protection.
Assurance.
Love.
Healing.
Peace.
A pair of lips gently touch my heart with a kiss.
They whisper,
I love this beautiful, messy heart.
You are mine.
