beautiful exchange

I'm lying there with no way to go;
a heart that's not whole and no place to call home.
I'm bloodied and bruised and battered,
not from some heinous crime or act of terror
but because of the heart inside my own chest
that no good attempts could ever repress.
My fragile body knows where it's going;
I've got no other way so I suffocate in my mourning.
I know my own inevitable fate
and so I just lie in my blood and I wait.

and then he walks in.

A man who was never one to turn heads
but had the power to raise the dead.
He's walking upright with a pure beating heart
I've never seen such a bright light in this dark.

He stoops down to me and I can see his eyes---
full of love, of dread, a man with no disguise.
He takes out a knife and puts it to my chest.
He cuts and he opens my now crimson colored flesh.
And then he hits my heart and he cuts more carefully.
Piece by piece he takes my heart and soon I feel it leave---
the greed, the lust, the lies, the rust
that once bloodied my body is now in his trust.

And then he reaches into his very own chest
and pulls out his heart, what a glorious mess!
He places in my chest a heart like no one else:
so beautiful, so holy, an unadulterated veil.
He stitches up the flesh that covers my heart
and picks me up to give me a new start.

I begin walking and dancing and when I turn to say thanks
I see him lying where I was, with my heart in his place.