You came into my life at a time where my heart was damaged.
It had been stomped on.
It had been shredded.
It had been bruised and beaten.
But you told me you could handle it with care.
You told me you could fix it.
That all you wanted was to fix it.
I wasn't naive enough to think you could fix it.
I knew it was damaged.
But I had faith that you could handle it with care
I had faith that you could help it find strength yet again.
I never expected you to fix it.
It is not in another's hands to fix our broken hearts— it is up to time and gentle care.
My heart was damaged.
It had been stomped in.
It had been shredded.
It had been bruised and beaten.
But then you came into my life.
For a time my heart found peace.
But now you say you can't handle the weight.
Now you see it as a burden to fix.
You no longer see a pumping living hurting heart, you see an object.
An object that has weighed you down.
An object that you sometimes stub your toe on when you're walking blindly in the dark and curse at for getting in your pinky toes way.
Now you hurt my heart.
But you can't see it.
Because you came into my life when my heart was damaged.
You saw me at my weakest.
So now with you at your weakest you look to me and say
"Your heart was like this when I got here. I just can't fix others mistakes"
Refusing to acknowledge the pain you have caused me.
Because having a damaged heart is difficult to handle but damaging a heart is impossible to handle.
