I'm not broken.

At least, not anymore. I was. But now all of my pieces have been picked up and are being held together by you.

My heart is in your hands. Do what you wish with it. You can hold me together or let me fall apart. I'll be okay either way.

You know why? Because it's easier to piece it back together the second time, like a puzzle you've already figured out.

So no, I'm not broken. But I'm not the same person I was back then. I never will be again.