Poem #28/30: "Offal"

How many names can I carve into my heart until it stops being mine anymore? What shape of empty does it leave behind? What beats there instead? Was that hollow visible when you walked around insisting your heart into other people's hands? I think I just gave the last of mine away. Did I think it was safer there than in my own body's cradle? Because, I can't feel it anymore. and something aches instead; like an itch, like a phantom organ/ I can feel the rest of them. If you have a piece, please try to see it as a gift from limited means - something I cut out just for you. Even if you've no use / it's stopped working right, please don't give it back. I don't think gifts that way. I think hearts are meant to be given away without anything owed. Hearts are meant to be set free: toy hearts, gift hearts, mine. Let it go. Give it away. I know someone wants it; someone must, someone's got to -