I used to think that
there were these little bones in my heart, and
when they got broken, the doctors would put
a bright pink cast on my heart.
But it doesn't work like that.
You can't put a cast on your heart, and even if you could,
there isn't a cast big enough to hold every single piece
my heart has broken into.
There isn't a glue strong enough to put it back
together, and keep you from breaking
it, yet again.
I had an elderly lady look on me and say "one day you're going to be a little heart-breaker to a bunch of boys."
And I'm sure I was before now.
So next time you adorn yourself with such a label as,
"Heart-breaker," perhaps you should imagine
what it would be like when someone breaks your heart.
The most exquisite truth of all is this:
I may be broken.
I am not
d e s t r o y e d.