This heart is like the insides of a pocket watch. The heart is rusted but still beautiful, its golden frame with weaving across the rim, the soft shine of the bronze numbers beyond the glass front, the white hands, slowly, slowly moving across the black backdrop where those bronze numbers lay. The middle, exposed, see-through, the gold and silver gears cranking away, held only by a frame. A black poppy outline finishing it off, its simple design amidst the complex designs, the centerpiece. This heart is not all it seems to be. Under its believable facade, it fades. The Clockwork heart’s ticking time, grinding gears, fading. Cold hard gears forced to move each and every day. One day, the gears stopped, time stood still. The gears have stilled, the hands immobile. The heart stands still, but only for a moment, until a gentle push nudges the gears to continue moving. It will stop moving one day, it is certain. For now, it will continue to move until the time comes where a gear will shift out of its trance and cause in-balance to the life it holds. The gears will stop and dust will gather but for now, time will rhythmically keep going even without the gears to hold it in place.

The watch I brandish across my neck is my Clockwork Heart. When the clock stops for good, I will be broken, emotionless, gone. My fragile Clockwork Heart will start and stop, continue to tick away my life, but when it finally stop, I will be there to repair it. I am Here.