Even the Broken Heart can Dance

In times of trouble and hurt sleep is a promise. But with a heart that is broken sleep is the friend who drops by but has to run soon again.

I sleep. And when I do there are no dreams. Nothing to soothe me, nothing to haunt me. But I surface too soon as if I have to come up for air. Like the whale I am not.

In the morning I get up really early to catch the sunrise over the sea. I go down to the beach and as I sit there watching the sky turn purple and red waiting for the big ball of fire to appear over the water’s edge … is again in my thoughts. As if never gone. I can’t help but think of meeting once again, and I know I shouldn’t because it would do me more bad than good.

I can hardly believe that I find myself sitting on this perfect silent empty beach watching the most beautiful sunrise I ever saw over tranquil waters, all my feelings in uproar and tears running.

Crying over a missed opportunity, meeting at the wrong time, wrong place, wrong everything. Wishing so much for at least one kiss. Only one because no words can express the depth and truth of my feelings. Crying over never standing the slightest chance from start to the end of the universe and back.

I can go wherever I want, I understand, I always take … with me. In my heart, in my soul.

I can laugh, I can dance. I can sing and have all the fun in the world. To everyone I may seem like a ballerina swaying and pirouetting through life, a woman who lives her life to the fullest tasting it all.

And I am. But that doesn’t mean my heart is not broken. It doesn’t mean I don’t carry a heavy sadness somewhere deep down inside. Sadness and a longing I know will not be fulfilled. A passion I will never live. I can still sail through life but it doesn’t mean I am whole.

I am not. I am broken.

I am shards.

Tiny shards that at least reflect light beautifully in all colors of the rainbow.



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