Moiety

It truly is quite a conundrum and day and night, I ponder it. In my hands I hold the lifeless rag-doll remnants of our friendship and still, I can not bury it. I long to fly freely forward but some force holds me still. The problem lies within, I espy. While all else is sound and whole, there is a small, jagged hollow from which a vital piece was taken. You have a moiety of my heart, not given to you intentionally, but so it is, nonetheless. Please, I beg you, return it, so I may flee this desolate land. Bring back the moiety of my heart that leaves me waiting and incomplete.