2.

Why am I such a lover girl? Why do I have so much love to give, but no one to accept it? I serve my heart on a silver platter with my feelings as a garnish, only for it to be returned to the kitchen untouched. The chef stares at the returned, cooled and deflated cor, only to agree with the customer that it is not good enough to consume. How many more times can I carve my heart out of my chest before I have no more blood left to restart it when it eventually returns unchosen? I don’t have much left to give.