The stinging sensation of glue on the broken pieces of my heart is too familiar for most to bare. As I put the puzzle back together i realize there are no directions to guide my enervated hands into the right spots. The finished product is an abstract art, odd looking and misshapen. Maybe that is why I am so hard to love. My past loves cannot find their way around the streets of the abandon city that is my heart. The basic diagram of the human heart does not apply to my organs. Mine are hand crafted with lone pieces picked from the concrete, a beautiful masterpiece so hard to comprehend that it drives the love of others away in fear that they may not understand the dynamics of my disfigurement. I sacrifice my potential for love to put my heart on display for others to study, hoping to one day find the cure to my loneliness.
-apj
