It is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. Paraphrased (as close to the statement in my memory as possible) of course, but no less true.
Today, I woke up with a realisation that to lose love is to lose heart. The illustrations of many a publication should have given me this cathartic conclusion but idly, my mind ignored the subtleties of the images. When someone leaves you, be it a relative, a spouse or just a significant other, they take a piece of you with them. Neither gray matter nor osseous tissue, but an unseen muscle.
The heart is hidden and protected via wondrous designs - the thick flesh of the pectoralis major, the flexible yet strong ribcage. Yet, the metaphorical heart can be lost so... easily.
Given and never reclaimed.
When you love someone, you will never stop loving them. How else can you love? To lose love is to lose heart: to lose the faith that the world is not such a cruel place, the belief that there can be some purpose for existing other than to survive and procreate, the strength to strive on to be a better man.
Carry on then, as an empty husk of a human being. For without heart, there can be no living.
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