Have you ever realised how close a heart is to an egg?
When broken, shards are discarded, nonchalance remains.
What? So you broke an egg there's eleven more in the carton.
But, I don't have a dozen hearts.
When a heart breaks it takes more
than all the King's horses and all the King's men
to put my uneven heart back together again.

Hearts are caged like battery hens,
yet when free to roam they roost in the wrong home.
Affairs of the heart clot it's valves, congeals like a cold yolk.
Here, have a dozen roses, feel better?
I'd rather a dozen eggs, then when one breaks it's replaced
Bards and harps write and sing of the heart strings
never the cracks a heart, whilst broken brings.