My Heart Is In Autopsy

About someone who died from a broken heart

My heart is in autopsy
being dissected and picked apart.
A shame, the doctor says
because it appears to be a good heart.

What killed it is plain to see,
she was allergic to pain
and had one heartbreak too many.
Under gross inspection
you can see cracks here then there
and the weight of the heart
heavy from wear and care.
Could it have been saved is the question,
was it truly a homicide?
The doctor shakes his head and says…
no it is an accidental suicide.
She decided to stop caring,
to not let the lack of care of others get her down;
and now lies her heart on the table
because of an apparent meltdown.
After the last break her heart became numb.
Aside from the void, she never felt a thing.
She lost all hope for life
and never realized when her heart had stopped beating.

My heart is in autopsy.
Such a pity, the doctor says it was a good heart.
It was full of life, strong and vital,
but now lies on the table being picked apart.

Dedicated to Jakrebs for giving me the idea to write this poem.
Word count: 195
Line count: 31