broken-hearted

Bleeding for a decadeFor a decade,We bleed like there is no hell but the earthWe bleed like we were born to dare We bleed like there is nothing alive inside.We find a clueAfter a decadeBleeding is just to breathSimply keeps us alive.

Pain and misery are two different words, which both hurt.

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,and I still don__ know which month it was thenor what day it is now.Blurred out linesfrom hangovers to coffeeAnother vagabond lost to love.4am alone and on my way.These are my finest moments.I scrub my skinto rid me from youand I still don__ know why I cried.It was just something in the way you took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn__ recognise the emptiness you left me with when you were done. Maybe you thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to you and us and all the rest.But then you must have changed your mindor made a wrongbecause why did youleave?6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,and I still don__ know which month it was thenor what day it is now.I replace cafés with crowded bars and empty roads with broken bottlesand this town is healing me slowly but still not slow or fast enough because there__ no right way to do this.There is no right way to do this.There is no right way to do this.

Hearts are breakable," Isabelle said. "And I think even when you heal, you're never what you were before".

I'm fairly convinced that the Kingdom of God is for the broken-hearted. You write of 'powerlessness.' Join the club, we are not in control. God is.

It is our wounds that create in us a desire to reach for miracles. The fulfillment of such miracles depends on whether we let our wounds pull us down or lift us up towards our dreams.

I should have learned my lesson from Greek myths, really. It so doesn't pay to fall in love with a god. It__ either you get transformed _ flower, bull, you name it, the gods can be that petty _ or you just get_crushed.

So you will meet many __omeones_ who will give a new definition to your name. And you can not build walls, must not close the door and please don__ hide,because if you ask me about hurt and loveI will say love. Love because the hurt will come and go no matter what, but only love makes it worth while. Only love can cure it. Don__ be scared. Go. Love.

I am not a broken heart. I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent. I am not the way I leave or left or didn__ know how to handle anything,at any time,and I am not your fault.

We cannot love a person with an all accepting, transcending and encompassing love without being hurt somewhat, without being disappointed, without being failed of our expectations. We cannot love without being broken, yet we cannot continue in love without being stronger than our brokenness.

We hurt so much because we have lost a part of ourselves. If we have loved much, we must have given much also, and when everything's over, we feel as though we have lost everything.

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,and I still don__ know which month it was thenor what day it is now.Blurred out linesfrom hangovers to coffeeanother vagabond lost to love.

God's breath is like a fresh wind that renews us. Frail and weak as we are,we have hope. We find healing.

To love is to risk, and to risk is to lose sometimes, to get hurt. But let it not deter you from loving again, from being happy.

Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.