Thimon86

How can it be That the one part of ourselves we know least about Is our heart? How can it be possible To love But not to love the way we should? How can a heart give itself over to everyone But not to someone? We can hear our heart yearn For company and proximity, For someone to kiss it And touch it And fill the hole that no one left there. But no matter how much we want it Nothing's good enough? How can it be that Our hearts can be stones and diamonds But break and bleed and be shattered By words and little gestures? Butterflies and needles, Little tools, A heart is a knife. Listen to your heart, they say, But hearts s