The Crushing of a Fragile Heart

The Crushing of a Fragile Heart

I felt the weight of every promise,

a quiet crumble no one seemed to hear.

While the world kept turning without pause,

my pulse broke itself trying to stay steady.

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There were moments hope held on too tightly,

stretching across the ache like a thin veil.

Pretending the cracks were only shadows,

when really they were the truth I lived in silence.

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I walked through rooms once warm with meaning,

now filled with echoes of what used to comfort me.

Each step whispered something had surrendered,

something gentle that never learned to fight back.

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The nights I gathered thoughts like fallen petals,

trying to shape them into something whole again.

Yet every piece slipped through my trembling hands,

as if the heart itself refused to be mended.

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I spoke to the dark with quiet pleading,

asking for strength to hold myself together.

Though no voice rose to answer in return,

I felt a small truth settle inside my breathing.

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The fragile heart I carried was never weak,

it broke because it dared to feel too deeply.

Even as it fell beneath memory’s weight,

it rose enough to keep me standing here.

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So I gather the remnants with a gentler touch,

knowing healing moves in ways I cannot force.

I let the pain become something to walk with,

something that teaches rather than tears apart.