The year of swiss cheese heart with a black puncture

After people are gone, you are left with dark, people-shaped, holes in your heart.

After people are gone, they never leave two holes alike in two hearts aside. 

After people are gone, you will slowly fill their holes with colourful memories. 

After people are gone, you can still get a warm harlequin hug from a hole in your heart. 

 

And what of that tiny black hole that didn't get a shape? 

And what of that tiny black hole that has no memories? 

And what of that tiny black hole that will suck you in if you get too close? 

And what of that tiny black hole with sharp edges that will cut you deep if you stare too long? 

And what if time dulls all edges and turns black grey? 

 

You have as much heart as it's left from colourful holes and grey abysses. 

You have as much heart as people to love. 

You have as much heart as you need, if you only let it grow. 

 

For the holes in my heart. And the people that share them. 

For me.