I Made a Frame with My Broken Heart

I used to think heartbreak was something you healed from.

Now I see it’s something you build with.

When she left, I didn’t cry the way I thought I would.

The tears came quietly, like shy visitors — not loud, not dramatic.

They just stayed long enough to remind me what loss feels like.

Days turned into weeks, and silence began to shape itself around me.

Everywhere I looked, memories stared back — soft, painful, too alive.

So I did the only thing I could: I picked up the pieces, one emotion at a time,

and built something out of them.

Not revenge.

Not regret.

A reminder.

A frame.

Now, every time I look at that invisible frame,

I see the kind of love I once gave — honest, reckless, full.

And instead of breaking again, I whisper:

> “You tried. You loved. You lived.”

Pain didn’t end me.

It became the border around who I am now.

I made a frame with my broken heart —

and somehow, it fits everything I’ve become.