Wayworn Heart Strings
It's so weird how we can become addicted to outstanding heartbreak. Addicted to it's reach. It's potential to hollow us out, and fill us up with resounding feeling simultaneously. Addicted to those constant aches. Those echoes of pattern and pressure. Those extensive digs we hunch ourselves over; painstakingly trying to recover something after it has merged with time and crust. Complicated layers of wayworn heart strings. Trying to salvage fragments of lesson from overwhelming loss. Addicted to collecting those small bits and pieces that resonate profoundly when combined together to recall a perfect memory. Addicted to the madness that swells from indulging too much in everything. There's something beautiful about heartbreak. It's hard to see that sometimes.
