For the most part,
he kept his heart in a zip lock bag.
That way less people would 
ask him if he had one.
A question he grew tired of.
Course he had one.
Silly question. 

It was like asking the sky if it was blue.
Yes, sometimes it looked grey,
but even the sky got tired 
of being the same colour. 

He would leave it
sat next to him
when eating his lunch 
at the local park.

The pigeons would bob their head
and move in closer,
thinking if they lingered for long enough,
they'd get a piec;
his heart an escaped crumb
from a loveless granary loaf.

They didn't know any better.

Neither did the children who would
stare as they were dragged past
by their mother's hand.
'Anyone told you it was rude to stare'
I'd think to myself.
It was no use however,
Children were curious beings.
They probably wondered why 
I was feeding my heart to 
the pigeons,
the pigeons wondered why I 
wasn't.

Regardless,
it sagged over on itself
looking disgruntled.

I should have probably
written my name on it,
across one of the semi translucent
white lines,
just incase I did ever misplace it.

How long could I go without it?
There are lots of people wanting 
a replacement these day.
Suppose I never got it back,
that wouldn't be ideal.

What if the sky never turned blue again?
Would the birds refuse to sing?
One thing for sure is that
the pigeons would still be hungry.