A heart is a fickle thing.
Its empathy and emotions bring tenderness and weakness.
It bruises when touched too harshly.
It yearns for soft touches,
Yet it sometimes confuses the soft touches with the harsh ones.
A heart in the hands of another is rarely safe.
Poking and prodding eventually wears it down,
Until all that's left is a husk of its previous self.
Don't trust your heart with a boy with fire in his soul-
You'll get burned without noticing it.
The burn wounds heal,
Yet sometimes you still smell the smoke.
It's acrid scent can choke you and scald your heart.
Hold your heart close.
Clutch it with tenderness.
Be wary of the temptation of fire.
