I facilitated you stomping on my roach of a heart.
I wouldn’t say it was fervent, so
Maybe not a stomp.
You casually glanced downward and noticed I was there,
you lifted the toes of your shoe–your heel never leaving the floor–then tapped my little roach of a heart out of existence
one click (crunch).
Normally, a roach heart can survive a nuclear holocaust.
I wouldn’t suspect you’d have time to wipe my remains off the floor; however, I know you’ll get that shoe cleaned.