Heart shattered on the floor.
The pieces are sharp and cut me.
The wounds are shallow but burn deep.
During my vain efforts to pick them up,
a hand appears.
The hand seams to be unaffected by the jagged pieces.
Glancing up I see a warm face.
As he helps, the wounds heal,
the pieces start forming back together.
Guilt and confusion seep into my conscience.
"You should remain loyal!"
Loyal to what or who? There is no one there.
"Your heart hasn't healed, you aren't ready!"
But he is fixing it, one piece at a time.
And it is going much faster with his help.
There seems to be no reason not to let him help.
He is making me whole and happy once more.