Broken Hearts

Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.

I often wonder
If at all, I could bend,
Would it make it easier
To fix her; make amends?

Would she abide by
the punches, the blows
Would she stay strong
Heal and grow?

Would she find peace?
Without breaking into pieces
Would she be fine
When the throbbing ache ceases?

I apologise -
We don't come with signs, that say
'Handle with Care'
Instead we come with hopes;
Naïve, forlorn hopes
That we'll be fine.

Hopes that break us into pieces.
Just like you and everyone else
Broke me,
Piece by piece.
For I refused to bend.

She and I
fix ourselves time and again,
With pieces of me
That I still have within,
A few other pieces-
Of those who left
Taking away,
a piece of mine.

And a few missing spaces
Here and there
Filled with hopes,
Hopes that someone will come by,
And fill them up again.

In these bits and pieces,
I have discovered her
A different version
If not the same.

Sometimes I have a little help,
Other times it's just me and glue
Putting together pieces,
Old ones and new,
All over again.

Broken hearts are a blessing too,
A bit more space,
For hope, for fear
For love.
The fear
of being broken,
Again
The hope,
To be fixed, again.