Tattered Gift

I hold his heart within my palms, It is beating so abundantly, There are less cracks in his than mine, I know, such a delicate thing, Never should it have been entrusted to me, A careless being, so clumsy with love, Yet, here it sits, resting so perfectly within my palm, Such a beautiful thing, Raw, mended, complete, I wish I could have such a thing of my own, Offering such a tattered thing in return, Mine is full of tears, breaks, and missing pieces, Yet, he still holds it so tenderly, so carefully, He will not break it further, A fact I am aware of, I will break both of ours once again, Such a careless thing I am, Selfish, yet somehow still selfless, Perhaps another try, Another life, Another love