She prays upon her alter of crystal hearts, growing her words for her Lord of Love in her chest. Her barbed wire church huddled around her, in one simple box with no roof, staring up at the grey, pale sky. Her knees are folded beneath her white skinned body, her brown eyes empty as her ripped open chest. Out of this field made of old dry wishes, she was the only living creature. No sounds of crickets could be heard in the dirt, and not a feather fluttered from the airspace overhead. The only eerie noise that sounded was the beating of her heart.
Her hand raised weakly to her fence, almost touching the beating heart that hung upon it. It shone red and brilliant, a bright gem in this dull world of bated breath and prickled goose bump skin. There was desperation on her face as she watched it beating erratically. Sadness sounded from each thump. Its rhythm was too fast. It sat amongst its siblings, crystal clear hearts already drained of blood and lashed open with pain. They had been ripped from her mottled chest, and hung upon their tiny spike. The lifecycle was a simple one: They grow, they are plucked and hung. They die.
This one she had spent the longest on, growing it to be strong in her chest, whispering her psalms of love over it in hopes this one might just hold. It was larger, its walls thicker, but the flesh was just a little softer than the others, it still had flaws. And now, she could see those flaws, after all this time, ripping it apart at the seams. She had hoped so much, lovingly growing it within her open chest for Him.
The still air sat heavily upon her shaking shoulders, one hand clasping her mouth as she felt the tears begin to flow. There was no surprise in her gaze, just a deep never ending despair as the heart began to break.
She wanted to clutch it, to grab it, hold it, but her hand only hovered just above its flesh as it beat fervently, painfully, in fits and starts. She could do nought but watch as the organ gave way to its fate, and ruptured open before her eyes.
The blood wrenched out, a guttural scream chocked from her throat, white hands rushing up to cup the splashing red liquid of pain. She pushed it back, tried to cup it in, anything to stem the flow, but all she succeeded in doing was to coat her hands in sticky, hot blood. It was all she could do but panic, crying out and pleading no, all while she watched her love die.
Long hours passed as she stared at the empty heart. It was already beginning to crystallise like the others, into a clear lifeless flesh. Her numb expression was unchanging, her shoulders shook and nose sniffed occasionally while tears streamed readily down her face. Slowly, the wind picked up, and in time all of the wishes around her swept away, leaving behind nothing but dry dirt, weeds, and the stain of blood on her pure, light skin.
Her body slumped, she stared at the sad, limp thing on her barbed wire fence. Soon, she would move it to another perch, leaving space in the middle of her barbed wire fence for the next. But she felt no more prayers on her lips. She had no strength to grow another heart to be plucked like a ripe apple from her chest. Instead she just stared at this thing, this empty, sore, sad thing and let herself become lost in the seering pain of having another part of herself die.