Some years ago today two pieces of my heart left.
One was forever.
One was temporary.
I am still missing those pieces, incapable of coming to terms with the definite one, unable to believe the temporary became permanent.
A heart that isn’t whole isn’t a heart —or so they say. Is it true? Mine still beats —out of habit, I believe. It feels wrong and empty, though. It is true that it isn’t whole so maybe it is true that it’s no longer a heart —not really, at least.
A close friend of mine once told me that sometimes in life a specific page in the book is marked. That’s this day for me. No matter how many years, the book is marked here.
The day that two pieces of my heart left and it stopped being whole. Permanentely.