I do not intend to keep your heart. It’s broken, torn, glued back together and broken back. Mine is too, maybe more. I wouldn’t mix the two, make one whole, our pieces won’t match. Keep your heart. I’ll keep mine. Glue it, let it dry, let it heal and scar. Then we’ll talk. In the meantime hand me your lips and lend me your hand. I’ll read the lines and look for signs that we’ll meet again.
Just know: I do not intend to keep your heart.