you know my parents gave me a heart

my mother sheltered it from her demons as best she could

my father occasionally scooped it up with his palms that smell like tobacco

and threw it in the dark

as a child, i could find it in the most dreadful of corners

i'd blow off the dust and whine to my mama about the ache

some days she'd hand me a band-aid

others, she told me to dry my eyes and to get away

what a burden it was to have such a sensitive little bugger

tugging at my sleeve and leading me to my death

finding the first nice person to me and thinking they must be my lover

and my heart was never ready for that aftermath

so when my heart was dropped a few more times

by self sabotage and pure accidents

and my brain pleaded not to do anything rash

i thought maybe cruelty would have the opposite effect

i would find a broken heart like mine

put all my being into their recovery until i simply forgot

about my suffering and would use that as the point of my life

nothing made sense unless i was useful, so i thought

but broken hearts can do damage themselves

we underestimate trauma and human drive

they take back their power and steal your pieces

and it takes what's left of your heart to survive

but sometimes hearts can be kind

with no strings attached and nothing to hide

and they can love you until you feel whole inside

and still ask if you need anything else

my fragile heart, my broken heart

my soul how it shivers just thinking of his voice in my ear

under a snow white hotel comforter in the pitch black

how does he make boldness and ease rise from the ashes of fear

he pours gold into every crack and crevice of my being

and shows me that just because i have been broken

doesn't mean i am worthless and unredeeming

i was never broken apart, just broke open

and my love won't stop flowing because of it

i have dwelled in the dark but found light

in things as small as lightning bugs and under the cracks of doors

my pain won't turn me cold and full of spite