Photo by Carrie Jo Thomas
The first time my heart broke, it took me by surprise. I tried shaking it and heard all these jingling pieces and a strange clicking sound. Why do we think we can shake a complex piece of machinery and magically repair the unseen damage?
The second time my heart broke I bound it back together with duct tape and kept walking as if I didn't notice that the incessant beating in my chest had stopped.
The third time was a more complicated operation. The edges never quite grew back together and the spots where they had were weaker and so easily prone to giving way at the slightest signs of pressure.
The fourth time it fell out of my chest and hit the floor, shattering into millions of little pieces. A heart that grows hard and brittle is so prone to shattering.
I tried super glue. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, scowering the floor for the pieces that fit together, sometimes trying to force their jagged edges to marry to no avail.
It looked a little rough, but it would have to do.
The last time my heart broke, I didn't feel it. I didn't notice anything had changed. I just hugged him goodbye and smiled and walked away.
I ordered an English breakfast tea before popping into the pharmacy to buy duct tape and super glue.
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