One of those days

How can it be
That the one part of ourselves we know least about
Is our heart?
How can it be possible
To love
But not to love the way we should?
How can a heart give itself over to everyone
But not to someone?
We can hear our heart yearn
For company and proximity,
For someone to kiss it
And touch it
And fill the hole that no one left there.
But no matter how much we want it
Nothing's good enough?
How can it be that
Our hearts can be stones and diamonds
But break and bleed and be shattered
By words and little gestures?
Butterflies and needles,
Little tools,
A heart is a knife.
Listen to your heart, they say,
But hearts speak in tongues.
How can it be,
I ask,
How can it be I'm alone
Although I don't want to?
How can it be I don't love
Although I want to?
There's so much love in our heart
For friends, for family, for life,
How can it be
It's not enough?
Hope is something so desperate.
But we can't control our heart.
It lives inside us
And fights and mourns and loves
The way it wants.
How can it be
We don't get torn apart?
How can it be that,
After all,
Our heart is really all we have?
We're happy after all, aren't we?
Aren't we?

I guess it's just one of those days.