Hearts

The truth is you never really know what you've had until it's gone. The saying is repeated, but still remains as true as the first time the words were invented. Such a small saying with such deep meaning cannot come close to the depth and complexity our relationship had reached.

I was a book of many languages, a house of many walls. And as you entered I welcomed you with pride and happiness. And I was happy. I ensure you I was. I had opened my door to you when I had closed it to so many people. And as time passed you filled me with new things; ideas, memories, beautiful things. And then, you took me down. Wallpaper by wallpaper, I was unable to become my own image. I had to be your mirror; a reflection of who you wanted me to be. And the worst part, you didn't even know you were doing it.

After a while I realized I had become cramped. I was uncomfortable, and wanted to dig down into the layers that overlapped our memories to find the good times; to reassure me that some of that was still present. But no. It was covered in such chaos and disillusion that I couldn't see us anymore. I only saw you. And who you wanted me to be. But not me.

So I knew it was time. My breath became cold, my heart beating faster; afraid to believe that it would break for the first time. I would be flooded; and everything that I had known for so long would be gone.

And when it happened my heart did break. And yours did as well. And you didn't know why. And neither did I. I didn't know why you were unable to comprehend it. That made me break just that much more. Until it snapped. And my heart and your heart broke.

I rushed to fix it. Find other hearts, enter other's houses. Friends, family, but no. I was too run down, I would wear them out. So I had no choice but to heal. So I forced myself to cope. Took out my tools and stitched it up tight.

My heart is broken just as our bond may be, but broken hearts when sewn back their parts are still hearts. And beating hearts they will be.