It still comes as a surprise to me when I remember your true shape. All through elementary school I attempted to draw you perfectly, to cut you precisely. I never thought for a second you weren't that exact same shape fluttering inside the cavity of my chest.
I suppose this very well should be a letter of apology. Over the last 24 years I have put you under a lot of weight, put you under a lot of pressure. I've made you succumb to being audience to unconvincing soliloquies in front of bathroom mirrors, and made you a contender in matches of much more brutal and bloody battle fields.
I have overlooked how you may react in certain situations, I am also guilty of trying to let my brain crush you in a fencing match of who is wrong and who is right. In the end, you always proved your worth.
I lay flat on my back and watch my abdomen pulsate with your entity. . . You have always sped up at the right times, never allowing me to think something was right when we both were acutely aware of its inaccurate nature. Alas, that did not stop the cracks in your once seamless surface.
You are no longer whole. And that is where my fault lies. I have led us on long and tiring journeys. . . I have allowed you to be bruised more often than I should. I have always thought I was the leader in this co-operation, but I believe I have been wrong all this time.
You are the center of my existence, you are the internal melody of my instrument, you are the soul, the life of what makes me who I am.
I have harmed you and yet you stay true. I keep going back for more long after you make it infinitely clear you cannot possibly endure another second. I give you away too easily and always end up with far less of you than when I began. I am fearful I will not ever be able to make this up to you.
Please just know that after all this time, I realize it was only you and me from the start. . . Just you and me baby.
If you were to write a letter to your heart, what would you say?