What did you steal?
Was it bigger than a breadbox, louder than a heartbeat, sharper than booze?
From whom did you steal it?
Where did they look for it when they discovered it was missing?
Did you put in on display, or did you swallow it whole?
What does it smell like in your home, on your breath?
When it sings, who hears it?
How do you keep it calm?
In what corner has it lodged itself?
What does it need from you now?
How has it separated you from the world?
Can you give it back? Can you give it away?
Can you let it go?
What is the first lie you ever told?
What was the weather like on the day it was born?
Where does it live in your body?
Is it alone?
What does it eat to survive?
How will it die?
Where will you bury the corpse?
What will you engrave in the stone?
How will you mourn?
What is your heart made of?
Where does it roam?
What does it allow in?
What is its weakness?
Who or what cracked it open?
What did it smell like then?
Did it make a sound?
When it stops beating what creatures will emerge from it?
And what will they do in the world?