Paper hearts don't break
they shred.
Not with sound-
but silence.
Not with storms-
but soft undoing.
A crease becomes a tear,
a whisper, a wound.
Love folds in on itself
until it forgets its shape.
They don't shatter.
They shred.
Quiet. Sharp. Gone.
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ShreddedPaperDoll
Jun 24, 2026 11:13AM
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