For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.
However much you wanted someone to want you, there was nothing you could do to make it happen. Whatever you did for them, whatever you gave them, whatever you let them take, it could never be enough. Never enough to be sure. Never enough to satisfy them. Never enough to stop them walking away. Never enough to make them love you.
It is our wounds that create in us a desire to reach for miracles. The fulfillment of such miracles depends on whether we let our wounds pull us down or lift us up towards our dreams.
Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.“
The clouds wept when my heart sang a song of sorrow“