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.
Yesterday I found my heart teetering on the tops of your fingertips. I was attempting to walk across a tight rope from my chest to yours without falling. Ev'ry word you spoke was a gust of wind pulling me closer to falling and I spoke my own words to stabilize my legs. But I knew the tragedy of one slip, If I said something too strongly or or I didn't listen well enough, stumbling off the rope was inevitable; whether I hit an unknown bottom or kept falling down the rabbit hole the result would be the same. My heart, broken on impact, the force of gravity tenfold because the value of my love for you is everything times ten to the tenth power. I cannot really fathom a shattered heart right now, but I'd imagine its something like-- Humpty Dumpty on steroids falling from the moon instead because someone accidentally mixed up the two children stories. Humpty Dumpty jumped over the moon and shattered every piece of himself on the way down. For the kings men would never find him again And I would never be able to put the pieces back together.
...Hey, ******, ******...Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
her soul was the flavor of anarchy and he knew he wanted a taste silver roses and bloodred flame to win her heart was a lovely game he kissed her in the rain and she touched him without shame he wanted her heart but only got pain she played around with the strings of his heart but she sometimes feared she would tear them apart a flicker or flame a bite and a taste of her anarchy soul.
i've had the words "anarchy soul" in my head for a while, so i decided to make a poem. have a lovely day <3
This, my darling, is what you call divine - my good for nothing, wondrous soul. Take but a step inside - let the beauty bedazzle you. Find yourself in outer space and let the shooting stars of my heartstrings guide you home.