Broken Things

When your heart breaks, it’s never quite put back together the same as it was before. It’s never quite whole again. Not the same as it was when love was new and a boundless, beautiful thing of endless possibilities. Every time you do put yourself back out there, it’s with something a little less than before. It’s not as innocent, not as filled with hope of a happy future, not as joyous. But maybe there’s something a little more as well. A little stronger, slightly more durable, slightly more pragmatic. But for those of us who don’t know how to love in half measures, we need to leave space in there for new love that might regrow some of what you’ve lost. Gone are the expectations of grand gestures and sweeping sonatas that carry you to a place of bliss. It’s replaced by a more simple want. For someone to accept you the way you are and be with you when things get the hardest. And to not leave when things get bad. For someone to hold your hand when you’re flapping in the wind.

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