As my heart was breaking,
And my soul was quaking,
I knocked a mirror to the floor.
Broke it into pieces,
I can't stand to see this,
Don't know who I am anymore.
There's way too many shards,
Like the pieces of my heart,
Scattered all across the floor.
Each one holds a memory,
A chapter of my history,
Reminders of a time before .
(c) 2013 Teresa J. Goodman
Why is it that when we're children we are taught that there is one true love out there for everyone? Then when we are older, and experience our first heartbreak, we are told that, eventually, we will get over it, and that there are plenty of fish in the sea. Why doesn't anyone ever tell you that, if you give too large a piece of your heart to someone, even a decade afterwards, you will still love them? Why doesn't anyone ever tell you that, if you do that too many times, you'll find your heart, itself, has become fractured into several pieces, and each person you gave a shard to has kept it? And every time you run across them, or speak to them, there's a pain in your heart reminding you that they still own a piece of it.
