Burn of Breaking a Heart

I want to remember
How a heart feels--
How it cries when rains falls on
Fire, when sweet whispers are
Snuffed by the wind of my
Inconsideration.

I want to remember its warm pulse
As it matched mine, as it sought
To unwind the rusted chains
That I had long let bite my
Sorrows away.

I want to remember the taste
Of being loved, of being
Wanted, because just three
Foolish words could pump me with
The fuel to be even more
Foolish.

Because "want" and "love"--
Those were just items.
Those were pockets of spare change
And the loss at the bottom of a
Bottle.

So I want to remember
The warmth of a heart as it
Cared for me, but all I
Recall is the burn of it being
Crushed between my
Fingers.