I fell in love with ‘the man with a suitcase’. Placed my heart in a jar and gave it to him so that he could take it with him where ever he went. Off and on , he came and left like a ‘no where man’. I wondered where he laid his head at night, whose warm body gave him comfort in my absence, on whose couch did he toss and turn?. My heart in a jar, I walked around feeling lost like a mindless zombie. Lost without one who was lost. He was lost to me though I felt lost without him. I tried to function without a heart, my heart in a jar, in his suitcase he took where ever he went. I dreamt of a home, a dog in the yard, the voices of children playing, the cry of a new born baby. My head in the clouds, I was just a dreamer.

But one day….. I awoke. The intensity of the sun tearing through my window blinds almost blinding me as I opened my eyes. I found my heart in a jar by my bedside. It was beating ferociously begging me to take it back. I stared at my jar, I held it in my hands, drew it close to my chest, that I should feel my own heart beat again, even though it wasn’t inside of me. I turned around and the door was open, I saw the tracks of his suitcase on the floor, the air was slightly stained with the smell of his cologne, the front door unlocked, his footprints in the sand, trail fading off with the distance. He had become a memory. I held my beating heart in my hands, I looked up to the morning sun and the chilly wind filtered through my clothes. A new day had come.

I grabbed a shovel and dug a hole in the ground. I buried my beating heart in the sand, that one day it shall be found by the one  who will make it his treasure. My heart in the sand.