'They Say a Bleeding Heart Looks Good on a Woman' by Julia Smith

 

I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom next to the walk in shower wearing a bottle green two-piece swimsuit. And it all looks reasonable. I haven’t been to the pool so much this winter but I’m trim. Except there’s a hole where my heart used to be and try as I might, I can’t remember where I left it.

 

It was there on birthday in July because I have photos of friends and laughter. I still had it on the ferry to Greece and when I emerged after holding my breath for far too long. In early October it fluttered and hurt after a chance encounter one night happy on wine. At New Year I tucked it up to bed with my family.

 

I wonder if the dog has eaten it. I can be careless and he is always hungry. Or if I’ve lent it to a friend in need and forgotten who. I should open the drawers and spring-clean what no longer fits but I’m afraid that I’ll come across the letter I wrote you, that you sent back. I’m afraid I’ll find a pounding bloody mess and will have to clean it up and that it will ruin the summer.