My heart, it seems, is an insensible creature.
It loves without discretion,
it becomes jealous without discretion,
it breaks without discretion.
(mine. click to see its intricacies.)
I want to love, I want my heart to enfold everything, everyone.
But if I accept that it will do that, which I can't keep it from doing, everything hurts.
(mine. click to see its subtleties.)
There seems to be a fine line between love and pain,
a glass wall, a fragile boundary,
one that too often in my life is broken.
