I am sorry for the nights I spent by your side. They ruined me, when they were supposed to make me whole. The pieces I gathered broken from the hardwood floor don't feel like they belong to me any longer. Tarnished surfaces, splintered and worn, and edges that could slice you deep if you aren't watching what you're doing. Cutting and bitter.
It's a terrible thing, but perhaps necessary, and perhaps more common than a heart would care to nod to. And perhaps, it wasn't you after all, but my own tendency to disappoint myself. A terrible - addicting - game that you are a card in. Go back to start - do not collect a thing. S.