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Some senseless poorly written paragraph.

That coldness.
I remember it, the sharp edge. A creeping taste of metal. The feel of cement coursing through my veins and turning me into skin wrapped statue. Motionless. Frozen. Vulnerable. Open like a window on a breezy summer day, for your lovely hands, with skilled fingers thin and long, to reach inside of me. The sound of that voice, once so melodic and dulcet, turned to acid in my ears as you said the words that congealed my blood into the thick red paint you use to color your canvas. Those fingers that once so gently held me pierced into the fragily beating organ at my core, and then with a slow practiced stroke removed it from my existence. Still it beat painfully for you. Oh how you held it gently and whispered to it execrable words that made it’s pace quicken. If only I could control the traitorous organ that was captivated by you as I no long am. My mind could not reach it, exactly what you had intended, and remind it of your unkindness… Your heartlessness, the reason you seemed so deeply intrigued with mine, for you’d never had one to begin with. All this time it was only an charade, a façade. Closer you held it, contentment seeped from your skin as it beat faster and faster the nearer you drew it. It has never been mine has it? I was born to love you, it was born to love you, a compassionless creature. Slowly you unbuttoned your colorless shirt, and exposed the colossal gaping wound just left of the center of your chest. Cradling it like a newborn child, you slipped my still warm heart beating in your hands into your rib cage. That hole closed over as you smiled at me with warmth for the first time and extended your arm out. How I wished to take those fingers again, the ones covered in my blood, but your smile broke and your eyes glazed over. At first it leaked from your eyes, then seeped from your chest and stained the purity of your shirt, turning it to darkness, your limbs trembled and your body shook then down you fell to the floor. Nothing but a quiet thud as you landed on me, pale pink smile inches from my lips slightly parted in surprise. I could feel my heart beating still, sickiningly, inside of you. With that voice I’d loved, the voice of honey when warm, the voice of sharp knives when cold, you slowly whispered the last words my ears would hear. Ice crackled as you said I was only your puppet, a plug to fill the empty hole in your chest someone had left. The slow killing venom of all the words you said to me was slowly choking me, the world grew black and every thing shook. I slipped under as your arms let go of me and you got up to walk away from me for the last time. I almost didn’t hear you when you said you’d loved me and you’re sorry.