I'm not perfect, no one is.
I'm broken, like a thousand others.
It's no handicap, yet it's hard to live with.
It's no luxury, yet it's impossible to live without.
'It' meaning 'you'.
Thoughts of you.
Fantasies of you.
All of you.
I have loads of questions to ask of you, tugging at my brain.
Yet I prefer just one.
Out of curiosity.
This.
Who broke your heart so that you chose never to love again?
Who broke your heart so that you choose to give others pain?
Quick fact: 'Sorrow doesn't go away if you share it, it multiplies a millionfold.'
Why don't you,
for once,
try giving away those
'still alive and breathing,
still expectant and waiting' pieces?
And get some of mine in return?
Let's see how our souls interwine.
You in?