You often used to tell me that
Your heart was mine forever,
But the longer it sits in the jar
The more it looks like leather.

I won it many years ago,
It wasn't very hard,
'Twas not with loving words
But on the turning of a card.

I plied you not with poetry
But drugs and alcohol,
Until you slumped, seductively,
Comatose against the wall.

I don't think you'd have been aware -
You weren't very smart -
That as you lay there bleeding
I held your warm, still-beating, heart.

And now it's mine forever -
You don't need it anymore -
But it's still a comfort knowing
You're still here, beneath the floor.