Cor

She held her heart in her resting palm; to be taken, to be given, to slip and to break. She knew no other way, as she wished she could put it back in the cage where it belonged; where the rest of the world protected this precious gem of their’s. She slowly tried to close her fingers around it, trying to keep it safe and as her fingers touched the borders and corners of her heart she could feel the scars, the bruises of the many times people burrowed it and crushed it before giving it back, she could feel the swollen lumps that were left behind by the people who walked away. She realised the extent of the damage and how dangerous it was to have a grenade in her hold; a ticking self destructing image that she could no longer recognise as her heart. She digs in her nails in fury; trying to stop it, to suppress it, to be able to put it back where no one could get a hold of it but she never succeeded, she went on living with a heart that no longer knew how to keep her alive.