Gone, gone, gone.

He wore his heart stitched to his short sleeve shirt where everyone could see his scars from past love. 

She wore her heart so deep beneath her bones that nobody could see her soul, even when they looked her in the eye. 

He wrote day in and day out because his love was so full that his mouth was bursting at the seams with what to say. 

She said nothing at all. 

His wearing his heart outside of his chest really made things complicated, because in the hallway as he sprinted, he'd brush up against other people, wearing out the stitched on patch he called his heart. And it's almost like when he brushed shoulders with her, that it finally just

Fell off. 

And as it slowly drifted to the ground like a snowflake in a calm snow storm, she tried her best to catch it, accidentally letting it slip through her beautiful hands and onto the cold, cold concrete. As he scrambled to pick it up, they must have made eye contact, because the heart he was bending to grasp had melted beneath his feet, sliding through the cracks into the dark soil below, never to be found.