I was in love once, the type of love you sow into ur heart and gradually it leaves a scar when u try to remove the stitching. And I tried to remove the stitching myself but I tore at it and ripped it in a way that left my heart’s tissue devastated. So I thought of every way that I could re-stitch through the old indentation and how I could cover it up, but nothing could fix what I had done to myself. I layed in bed one night scratching at my chest as the strings of the stitching popped and began to irritate my insides, and I laid and laid and I couldnt shake this feeling that was driving me insane. And I cried and cried and the irritation persisted to the point where I had to get to it. I Had to get to my heart and remove this aging string that pulled at me from every direction possible.For so long I had ignored the fact that the string had been poorly woven in the hopes that it would just hold out for my sake. And i trusted the one who sewed it into my heart, not knowing that their fingers werent able to do it with precision.So i ripped until i couldn’t rip anymore, until my fingers were cut and bleeding, and i sat with myself for hours. I hadn’t quite ripped my heart open but enough damage was done, so i left it. I left my heart in my chest to mend itself, but it remains branded by love.