There once was a girl who carried her heart in her hands. Trusting her most fragile possession with many. She believed people were good. That they loved like her. Protected like her. She left it at times with the undeserving. Pouring out all the love in hers to fill theirs. Some left traces of their fingertips and bruises. Others ripped tiny shreds from it to patch their own. While still a few held her precious heart between their hands and squeezed the remaining droplets of life from it. A mangled mess beneath their feet. There was not enough thread in the world to piece it competently back together. To make it beautiful and whole. So she hid it away. Ashamed of her carelessness. Of her recklessness. Of being too trusting and giving too much. Endlessly suffering from an empty heart that came with an insurmountable weight. Buried deep in the hollows of her chest. It stays. It waits. For what she is not sure. To hear the beating of her heart reverberating through her soul once more. For a love to come and gently nudge it awake. For deserving hands. Hands that will hold it so tenderly. So delicately. As if it was the last, most precious heart on earth.
@her-reconciled-heart
