They're there. Lurking in the corner, watching you. Small yellow eyes that don't blink, watching you expectantly.

But they've always been there, haven't they?

A n d t h e y n e v e r l e a v e

It's dark outside, but they stand out like they don't belong even though they do and you can't help but stare back.

And you just have to put you hand out, don't you? Just a touch, a taste, a little bit please

They wrap around your arm, clawing their way up because they need to get to you and—

But they don't need to do that, really, because they've been pulsing through your blood, through your veins, through your heart

Because everyone has a little bit of darkness in them, after all.

Their fun goes a little too far as they rip your heart out of your chest defying all logic because they aren't made of solid matter but it makes sense all the same and they flock to you even though the snack you provide isn't what they're made of, it's not what they desire, made of blackened hearts that can only yearn for more because that's what hearts are.

And it should hurt, shouldn't it? But it doesn't you know, because you've always been like them-everybody is-only now it's official oh, heehee! I suppose we should celebrate now--

But you don't because now you want a heart, too and isn't irony lovely, children? Made of broken rainbows and torn-up butterflies…

Spare a heart?