Why are our hearts always restless
to be stolen away by butterflies
and sawed in half?
At some point, amidst Shakespeare’s sonnets
and differential equations,
we’ve been taught that
you are only whole when
you give yourself away and
if your hand isn’t in someone else’s
it might as well be empty.
You will always be worth more
than the ring on your finger and
just because you’re thriving
on your own, it
does not make you
broken.