I don’t carry my own heart any more; you stole it.
Actually, that’s a lie. I thrust it upon you, regardless of whether you wanted it or not.
Luckily you looked kindly upon my surrender and still do, every day, which I am grateful for, every day. Because every day I know you could take my heart and damage it, crush it even; but you don’t.
That’s what love is, I think. Trust and surrender, bound together in a whimsical mixture that makes us both nauseous and addicted.
The roller coaster we’re all queuing to get on, then never want to get off.