I hold it in my hands.

It is small.

Fragile.

Broken.

I have only one job now.

To fix it.

Mend.

Complete.

I can feel it beat aloud.

A dying heart.

Failing.

Falling.

But I know how to heal it.

It takes time.

Patience.

Love.

Every day I work on it.

I won't rest.

Work.

Fix.

It consumes me, this stubborn heart.

It must live.

Thrive.

Grow.

I am one of the Menders.

One job only.

Mend.

Restore.

Love.