i felt at some point, i wondered through the gates of his heart, walked around a little, and settled down inside. the line between fantasy and verity blurred so much i fell back. back into his arms. but when eventually i stumbled back into the world, i shattered. there was no certainty, no bed in someone’s heart to sleep in for a while, no shatter-proof glass to hold me all together. i’d been in my aviary of song birds and dreams for so long that i’d forgotten just how much it hurts to walk over the shards of people around you. he told me if i broke enough times, people would put me back together, until i could choose my own little pieces of moonlight to slot into my veins. but what if i broke every time i stepped out the gate. what if my hands bled so much when i picked up other people, that mine blew away, and were lost in the cracks of someone’s ideals. never had i felt so at home, so comfortable in my skin, or his, that the world didn’t exist outside the bed sheets. so my pieces were bundled up for a while, inside his heart, where they could cut him up from the inside.