My heart in a million pieces, a heavy task at hand.Broken and bruised, pieces everywhere.
My heart had been confiscated and then returned, tattered and scattered in a million little pieces.
The pieces partitioned like a vortex unraveled.Where do I find sealant to put this all back together?
Where is the heart doctor who can re-organize my heart back into one organ?
One organ it will be again and is still despite all its little pieces scattered, but never the same organ. Rearrangement of all the pieces quite the task to contend with.
Never will my heart be the same.Never will it be whole and pure. Forevermore it will be bruised and battered. It at times pulsates vigorously, many times skipping a beat, others it seems to stop beating all together as I grasp for air, so heavy hearted.
Dearly departed, you indeed left me heavy hearted.
Perhaps there is an original blueprint of how it once looked. It’s original shape and magnitude all in alignment. Perhaps that would offer me guidance to put these pieces all back together in some congenial orderly fashion.
I get by, but the innate knowing a broken heart shattered in a million pieces lay dormant on my soul. My heart heavy, yearning to be light and airy as it was when I was a little girl.
Free of pressure, free of adult woes, free of life’s blows.Is broken heart syndrome a real thing?
The American Heart Association certainly thinks so.