Sometimes, I think I am greedy. There is a yawning chasm right beneath my breast that swallows everything I throw at it. It swallows my heart, sometimes, and spits it back out at my face on a random Monday. I have perfected the art of reattaching my arteries, cleaning the blood off my face, giving the lump of muscle one squeeze, two squeezes, and going about my day. But lately, you have started to ask me where I go when my skin turns cold and blue and I do not come back home. I will tell you,...

Sometimes, I think I am greedy. There is a yawning chasm right beneath my breast that swallows everything I throw at it. It swallows my heart, sometimes, and spits it back out at my face on a random Monday. I have perfected the art of reattaching my arteries, cleaning the blood off my face, giving the lump of muscle one squeeze, two squeezes, and going about my day. But lately, you have started to ask me where I go when my skin turns cold and blue and I do not come back home. I will tell you,...