I have accepted the heart you held in my hand.
I wished to fit it with my own.
But in the process, you kept deliberately cutting my fingers
Was I going too fast? Possibly.
Were my pieces too small? Possibly.
Were the edges too sharp? Possibly.
And yet, I continue to clutch at your shards with ****** palms.
I can't let you go, even if you hurt.
I accepted your heart, and I can't go back on my word.
I will, one day, form a beautiful stained glass portrait of you and I.
No matter how many ounces I bleed, I'll attempt to complete this work of art.
And yet, I ended up shattering more of my own pieces to try and fit them in with yours
Yours, whose pieces weren't meant to fit mine at all