I love you, he said. Iíll be careful with it. Trust me.
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So she handed him her heart. Still fragile from the last break. But he was different, wasnít he?
Iím sorry. But I want to see other women.
A slight crack, but she takes her heart back, applies some glue and waits.
I realize that you are the only woman for me. Please give me another chance.
Again, she handed him her heart. Believing he really thought about his feelings for her. Surely he wouldnít break it again.
Iím sorry, I donít know what I was thinking. Please forgive me.
She again takes her heart back and applies more glue.
Time goes by.
Please, I canít live without you. Let us take it day by day. Please, I love you beyond words can say. She doesnít mean as much to me as you do.
Reluctantly, she hands him her heart again, the glue is barely dry from the last time he dropped it. She hopes he will see the pain and realize how much she loves him.
CRASH!! Pieces shatter in every direction.
All I can say is that I am sorry. All you did was love me and I got carried away with my compassion, not wanting to hurt her.
She wonders if he will ever really comprehend her love for him. She sweeps up the pieces and for a split second thinks about throwing the pieces away, giving up hope of ever repairing it. But then she remembers the feelings and emotions and experiences he brought into her life and grabs the bottle of glue again.
Will she ever trust him with it again? Can she believe that he will think about the valuable possession he holds in his hands before all others? Or will his compassion for others make his hands slippery and cause him to drop her heart again? Only to be followed with more apologies and confessions of his love for her and only her? It will take time to put all the pieces back together and for the glue to dry. As she begins gluing the first of many, she asks herself, Am I even strong enough to give him another chance?