The saying “my heart has shattered into a million pieces” is a cliche’, I know. But let me explain why I describe it this way. I look at the cracks and reflect on them. Every one, a lesson, an event, a memory. They twist and turn, sometimes backtracking. Some intertwine. This one, just another stumble in the road of life. I think that tiny one over there, almost too faint to see, is my First heartache. Some cracks, you can barely see. Other are red, raw, still bleeding. Each crack, a spot where I let in the love, or it was an escape from the ravages of war/love. Every one painful; but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. The cracks and fissures are part of me. They have molded me into the woman I am today. Yes, I’ll keep my shattered heart. I’ve grown quite fond of it.
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