Mona Lisa

Interesting, isn't it, the way brokenness builds. Up and down and on top of. Prepositional decay.

I realized today the way the depth of my heartbreak reflected the depth of the love that caused it. I knew the deal; give away as much of my heart as I was willing to risk breaking. I signed the deal with a forever-sort-of-blood, and repurposing forever-sort-of-blood is painful. But I am happy that I gave freely. I struggle to reign in the no-matter-what love I'd committed. If this had happened under other circumstances, the kind I hoped for for too long, I would have loved forever. Srsly. Isn't that scary? Instead, I landed on the Candyland square that slides me back three squares--next go around I'll turn left at the fork.

I know I keep hammering the same subject. Forgive me; the same subject keeps hammering me.