This image speaks of a violence so great and painful that it makes me sick at heart.
So I die inside.
My heart dies.
My heartbeats die.
Love dies.
All that is left is a slender, pallid body, without colour.
Kneeling through exhaustion.
The last act of care is to hold my heart in my hands with the knowledge of having torn it out of my chest.
In a place without life, without any background, just a pure white