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.

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