(Written last December 2004, on a Starbucks table napkin)
Where do broken hearts go?
A question I jokingly posed to KJ a few minutes ago, while sitting here at Starbucks Rockwell.
A question I seriously asked myself after being left with nothing but a bleeding heart more than a year ago
A question women (and yes, men) have constantly asked after getting their hearts broken (sometimes over and over)
A question that Whitney Houston asked us during the 90s
A question that can have a million answers
A question that can never have a single answer
A question that maybe needs no answers
The important thing is: They heal.
It may take a week or a hundred years, but it will.
The ultimate question is: do you want it to heal?
If yes, then place all the broken pieces into the Hands that promised to put it back together. Don’t even think of keeping even one, teeny tiny piece. That tiny piece will come back to prick you someday.
If no, then enjoy your misery. I heard it loves company.