Flesh and bone

I still remember that day, that phone call. You spoke in monotone, like reading a speech from note cards. I listened in shock; for 10 minutes earlier, you told me how much you cared. I laughed at first, thinking this was a joke; then, hoping it was a joke. 
That is when it began. I heard your hand reach through the phone. I felt it pierce my chest, ripping through tissue and bone. I heard the throbbing. I saw my heart, dripping with passion, be torn from my body. In just a moment, it was gone. I felt nothing, numb.
Now I walk zombie like looking, not for brains, but a heart to rip out, just to hear that sound again, that rhythmical thumping. Just to feel something once more. I am so hollow and empty, desperate to fill this void...
Soon the blank stare-sitting becomes waiting. Then I start to feel my veins slowly fill again and a faint sound taps in my ears. There you are; not stolen, just shredded. So I take encouraging words and thoughts, use them as tape to bind and protect these wounds. Still the damage is there and it does not pump the same.  I can only fill my lungs with air and use my muscles to walk around in circles. Sometimes lost, or is it a daze? I occasionally scratch at the itching scar . A reminder of a never will be. 
The tissue rubs against my ribs, hinting that I will never be the same. Stronger and guarded, I have become. No one sees me anymore. My brain has shielded me by keeping all at a distance. I catch people staring at the scars, but the fire in my eyes pushes them away. I am alone now, but never again will I be lonely.