I have only one heart. When I was young I told myself I had to take care of it. Watch out for people who will play with it and break it. As I was growing old, I’ve become a person less lovable and less likely to love easily. I had a heart of stone and that’s how I liked it. I walked the course of life confident that it will never get broken because I wouldn’t allow anyone to get close enough to even touch it.
Then this one person broke through the steel walls of my heart. Slowly she’s penetrated my heart as much as she’s touched my life. I became vulnerable and allowed her to get through. I thought it was fine, I thought we were good, I thought that it’s the best decision ever, until…
One day my one heart got broken. Left to pieces and shattered bad. Every piece of it had died, rotted to the core, and has become un-beating. My one heart became a million shattered pieces I couldn’t even call it a “Heart” anymore. I tried to put it together but it simply wouldn’t. It was shattered for good. People told me a new love could put it back together but it’s never worked, and I don’t think anything would ever put them back together. I am not merely existing numb, broken, and alone – I am, in fact, without even a heart.
MR @ 2016