A universally known rule of science states that if you heat something up, if you get it hot enough, it will melt. The same goes for the heart. Once it tastes love, tastes the sweet burning of passion, it will begin to crack and change it's shape. You poured over my heart, smothering it in burning love, dousing it in simmering care, heating it further than I ever imagined it could go. My heart melted, all my walls and insecurities, my doubts and worries melting with it. And then you were gone. You were gone and you took everything with you, leaving a mangled, deformed shape covered in soot and sorrow, barely reminiscent of a heart behind. You burned hot and fast, and you left a path of destruction in your wake. You destroyed my heart with your fire. You melted me beyond recognition. But if you melted me with the inferno that is your being, does that mean if I grow cold, if I freeze my heart, it will reform? If I coat it in ice, will it stop hurting? If I cover it in stone will it finally remain whole? If I bury it miles beneath soil and mountain, will it ever be found again? I don't know. But I'm ok with not knowing because I don't know if I ever want it to be found again anyways.