They ask you why you’re so damaged. So you explain that when you love someone, your heart breaks off and the other person stores a piece of that break inside them. If they are with you, you can’t feel the emptiness where the broken piece used to be. But when they go away, you feel it. You feel the break intensely. Your heart is no longer whole, so you aimlessly wander around as it aches with frailty and longing for the piece that has left. Because without that piece, you are broken; you are incomplete.
Some time passes and you repair a fraction of the damage with a temporary placeholder. But then he also goes away and takes yet another piece of you with him. So, now, instead of healing one break, you are healing two — then three then four, until the only feeling left in your heart is emptiness. They ask you to describe the emptiness, and you answer that you can’t. Because how do you describe something that’s no longer there?
You wish you could reveal your heart and show them what the fire has done to it, and how extinguishing it has made you cold, but they were not meant to see. So when more time passes and you realize that the only pieces that are left are missing all the good parts, you no longer feel the need to explain. You only think about what heartbreak has done to you.
What was once calm is now a storm. What was once joy is now sadness. What was once color is now the darkest shade of grey. What once made you rise is now the reason that you fall. All the good pieces of you that you spent a lifetime putting together are now scattered inside strange souls. And you only have mismatched pieces leftover. Bad, broken, mismatched pieces that no longer fit together. Bad, broken, mismatched pieces that only make you bleed.