how to survive an open heart & this body walks

How to survive an open heart?

There is terror in living with an open heart

no shields, no walls, no armor.

It is walking naked across battlefields,

crying over dead bodies

to make the soil beneath moist,

so it can drink the life

and feed on it,

and give back in return.

There are flowers growing.

There are always flowers growing

where something died.

This body walks; not sure it feels.
Not sure what it feels.
It feels like a parasite.
It feels when it is attached
to another lifeform.
Does it feel by itself?
Can it make warmth alone?

It waits.
It clings.
It absorbs.
It gives back.
It attaches because it wants to give back.
Is the giving ever its own?

This body is full of echoes,
empty sounds,
overly shared stories
that are not its own.
Did they really happen?

It wonders if it will ever feel,
or if feeling is always borrowed.
It wonders if giving can become
something other than reflection,
than memory,
than survival,
than strategy.

It wonders where body heat comes from.
I repeat. Can it make warmth alone?

Also, does a shadow have eyes? 
and can light 
be found in those eyes?