My heart once hung perfectly,
Supported by two strings within my chest.
It was bright and full and whole.
Then came love.
Drain your heart, and what do you get?
Bumps and bruises,
Cracks and holes.
My heart is covered.
I patch it up, love tears it more.
Sew it up, move on.
Fill the holes up the best you can.
Life goes on.
When my heart bleeds, I bandage it.
A scrape here and there – no big thing.
Now my heart is damaged,
Hanging crooked by a single thread,
Still, I can't help leaving it open
For anyone to hurt.
Still, I smile and live on,
Mend and move on.