Heart Shards

This isn’t a romantic Missed Connection or anything. I’m just looking for the whereabouts of my dear, dear friend Bob Wienkle.
Bob? Hey there, buddy. How are you? You well?
God, Bob, I'm so lonely. I sure do miss you, buddy. Miss you a lot. We had some good times, didn't we? Remember...heh, heh...remember that time I broke my right leg in something like six spots and you just cradled me in your arms for hours? God, I love you. I really do. I love you so much it hurts—hurts worse than breaking my leg in six spots and not getting to the hospital for 8 hours because your friend is just cradling you in his arms instead of calling 911. But, buddy, not being around you is like having my heart broken in like 20 million spots. And the heart-shards are razor-sharp and poke into my lungs and ribs and other organs, and it hurts really bad—worse than that leg and love thing. And there's no hospital for heartbreaks. None that I know of, anyway (if anybody out there knows of one, please let me know).
Well, this is gone on longer than I expected, Bobby. I really just wanted to say, "Howdy," and see how you were doing. No need to write back or anything. Unless of course you want to. Hell, I'd love to hear from you. Even if it's just a few words of encouragement in this, my darkest, dimmest hour. Or simply to hear the glorious tenor of your voice beckoning me to heel at your side forever. Either one; your choice. Well, take care, buddy. I pray to the sweet heavenly father I hear from you soon. Otherwise, I don't know what I'll do.

--Sam Jesop

p.s. With the strength of my love I can crush you into tiny, lovable pieces that I will never let go of. Take that anyway you want.

p.p.s. I constructed an exact replica of you out of paper maiche. Stop by and take a look; I think you'll appreciate the craftsmanship.