And then my heart very slowly healed itself back up. A thick, crooked scar wound its way around my heart, but it was too far inside me to scratch when it itched and festered during the night. And then one day I couldn't feel it anymore, my whole heart had gone numb, and I was starting to feel whole once more.
But he came back. He just sort of whispered my name and in one sudden moment the scar exploded and my heart burst through and it throbbed and kicked in my chest trying to break out. I breathed a deep breath and tamed my heart and twisted the scar back around, so that now it was two mismatched pieces trying to beat as one. And I thought that now I could restart the healing.
But he came back. Again and again and again, and I as much as I pretended I couldn't hear him whispering my name, my heart heard it all. And soon my heart was torn in so many very little pieces that I knew I could never repair it, and I also knew I didn't want to. For now it wasn't a broken heart, but a heart used, and lived, and loved.
