Alien Who Ate My Heart

The Alien Who Ate My Heart

You said you loved me.
That no woman had ever treated you right.
That what you wanted, what you needed
Was a good woman like me
So you could live in love and harmony.

I asked God if I should marry you.
The divine love that filled my heart
Could never be denied.
Nor the words that entered my mind,
“This man will love you like you’ve never been loved before.”

When you persuaded and pursued,
I finally agreed to grant you access, and
I let down the fortifications of my heart.
I trusted God. I trusted you.
I chose to love. For love is a choice.

I gave you peace.
I saw only the good
and showered you with respect.
I lived in gratitude and acknowledgement
For every small thing you did or said.

We walked side-by-side along the road
Hand in hand, I came to trust.
I became the divine love that I was promised.
I felt more love for you than I had ever known.
Your happiness, your comfort became my wish.

Yet while my love was growing,
I now see that yours was dying.
You stopped noticing my feelings.
Your empathy fled
And when I needed you most you were dead.

I came to you as I watched my mother dying
Slowly, painfully before my eyes.
I begged you to help me through —
To comfort me in my loss. To be my lover and friend.
But now an alien possessed you instead.

Its unfeeling answer came like a dagger to my heart.
“I don’t feel anything for you anymore.
It’s gone and never coming back.
I will not try for one fleeting second.
I am done with you, done with us.”

Without warning the alien scooped my heart
out with a spoon and ate it for dessert.
In shock, my gaze fell to the gaping hole
Then watched my blood drip from the alien’s lips.
You were gone and a robotic monster remained.

How does one respond when an alien eats your heart?
A million questions but no reasonable answers.
“It’s not you. It’s me. I’m done.”
The love that had nourished me was gone.
And I gasped — parched and dying…

Our marriage withered before my eyes
Like my mother’s wilting body.
Now she is home and I am here.
My fingers trace the remnant pieces of my heart
The alien left drizzled on the floor.

There’s no putting it back
Into my chest’s empty cavity.
To even try would be hopeless.
There is no method or means
Only one answer is clear.

It doesn’t go back.
I let go of the useless mush.
I grow a brand new heart.
One that never loved you.
One that never knew you.

Perhaps my new heart will know better
How to protect itself from aliens.
Maybe it will know when to trust and when to run.
I feel it swelling, forming now
From the divine love my mother left behind.

As her heartbeat ebbed, she left me one last gift —
An eternal love that can never dim
And grows brighter with each new day.
Its light fills my soul and grows a more resilient,
Empathetic heart than I ever had before.

The mother who grew my first heart in her womb
Now grows a new one with God above.

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Posted in Divorce, Rejection.