I loved with everything inside me; every muscle, nerve, blood vessel, vein, everything inside me. I gave my heart to him. He had everything. Any worry I ever had I gave up. I took my heart out of my chest and gave it to him, so he could put it in his pocket for me because I thought he knew how to handle it with care. I didn’t expect him to drop it, or throw it around carelessly, or forget about it. I gave him this huge responsibility. That heart is what keeps me going, alive, supplies blood to my body. Helps me breath even.
So, I gave up jeopardizing my life and put it in his hands. I knew I would be with him forever, so I knew I could give it to him. We would grow old together and have kids of our own, so he could keep my heart because I gave it to him. Nobody else. I have never given my heart to anyone before like I did to this man. Rocky roads came, which is expected. But instead of my heart bumping around in his pocket, he seemed to take it and drop it, be careless, leave it at home while he went to do other things. My heart slowly and slowly started to lose value to him. In the beginning it seemed to matter so much, and he worried about it falling out of his pocket. But, as time progressed, he seemed to throw it on the ground and not care. He would care.
Just about a week later. He would tell me he didn’t mean to and it was dumb, and he is going to change and never do it again. I would then take my heart and give it to him again. Saying, “Okay. I have so much love and compassion for you I will believe your words. Your words mean everything to me.” They stab me like knives penetrating my skin. They hurt like needles going through my feet. But sometimes they can feel soft and warm. I couldn’t take the needles anymore because I was losing too much blood.
Once again and again my heart would fall to the ground losing cartilage and blood every time. It seemed like he did not realize the damage he was doing overtime to this organ of mine. I warned him again and again about fixing this because it was hurting. He said he would get it and change, but overtime my heart lost all of its value, but my love for him grew stronger. He could knife my heart and it still seemed to beat for him. He could grab someone else’s, and my heart was still only for him. That is the amount of love I gave. I did not know I had it in me. How he was that day would affect me. I would walk through fire for him over and over again. Then one day came along where he really decided he did not want my heart anymore. But this time, he did not just throw it on the ground. He pierced it, with every bone in his body he pierced it. He did as much damage as he could to it. And as soon as I thought he was done, he would do so much more. He didn’t stop. Eventually when he was done, so was my heart. It was broken, shattered, torn. My heart that grew several inches for him was now in pieces because of him. How could the one you gave everything for also be the one who kills your soul?