The heart
It beats...
It breaks...
It withers...
It dies...
It bleeds...
It loves...
It hates...
It shatters...
When it shatters, pieces scatter. Sometimes there's someone walking on its path to pick up the pieces. Sometimes there isn't. When there isn't someone, those pieces remain what they are, pieces. Pieces of what was, what could have been.
When it's someone you love that breaks it, it's when it hurts the most. That's when there's usually no one there to pick them back up. They get left to be walked on, like eggshells.
It leaves behind an emptiness, so dark that it's crippling. Feeling withers, an everlasting pain settling in.
The heart. Something strong but yet so fragile.