u/Current_Phase975

Heart for Sale or Trade

Used heart for sale or trade.
Poor condition—pretty beat up—but there’s still a little life left in it.
Might be capable of loving again… with the right person.

Willing to trade for something colder—
less empathetic, less reckless,
something that doesn’t fall so deeply, so fast.
Preferably one untouched by her.
A few cracks are fine—just not hers.

Price is cheap.
I just need it gone.
Carrying it every day is getting too heavy.

Make me an offer.
Honestly, I’d rather wander as a heartless fool
than keep feeling what this one feels.

Disclaimer:
Handle with care.
This heart falls hard—and it always falls for her.
The one who leaves, never stays… but always comes back.

It will make you feel everything—
the weight in people’s eyes,
the hurt they don’t say out loud.
It will make you want to fix the world,
to carry more than you should.

This heart is heavy.
Make sure your soul is strong enough to hold it—
or it will break you too.

Heart for Sale or Trade

Used heart for sale or trade.
Poor condition—pretty beat up—but there’s still a little life left in it.
Might be capable of loving again… with the right person.

Willing to trade for something colder—
less empathetic, less reckless,
something that doesn’t fall so deeply, so fast.
Preferably one untouched by her.
A few cracks are fine—just not hers.

Price is cheap.
I just need it gone.
Carrying it every day is getting too heavy.

Make me an offer.
Honestly, I’d rather wander as a heartless fool
than keep feeling what this one feels.

Disclaimer:
Handle with care.
This heart falls hard—and it always falls for her.
The one who leaves, never stays… but always comes back.

It will make you feel everything—
the weight in people’s eyes,
the hurt they don’t say out loud.
It will make you want to fix the world,
to carry more than you should.

This heart is heavy.
Make sure your soul is strong enough to hold it—
or it will break you too.

I have learned that my dreams speak to me in ways that help me understand what I don’t want to see. Sometimes they are good to help calm me and put me at peace, and others… well, to force me to see what I don’t want to.
I think it’s about time for me to be written out of your story. I think you’re ready for it. I think you try and stay in mine for me because you know I get lost inside myself without you. That’s not your fight and not a reason to stay in my story. I hope you enjoyed the chapters with me in it as much as I enjoyed being there. I always thought we would be main characters in each other’s story, irreplaceable, too important to not make it to the end. I can see I have served my purpose in your story, and you’re ready to turn the page. Start a new chapter filled with new adventures full of excitement, love, and growth. I will try to be satisfied in my role I had in your story. I hope I brought something positive to your story. I hope I’m not just another forgotten character, or something that’s looked back on like a mistake or a lesson to learn from.
I don’t know where my story leads now or if I just get ready to close it and stick it back on the shelf. I can’t even think of an ending to write, but either way, I’ll be okay. Just one day when this is over, I hope I get to read how yours finished. I bet it’s going to be amazing.

I have learned that my dreams speak to me in ways that help me understand what I don’t want to see. Sometimes they are good to help calm me and put me at peace, and others… well, to force me to see what I don’t want to.
I think it’s about time for me to be written out of your story. I think you’re ready for it. I think you try and stay in mine for me because you know I get lost inside myself without you. That’s not your fight and not a reason to stay in my story. I hope you enjoyed the chapters with me in it as much as I enjoyed being there. I always thought we would be main characters in each other’s story, irreplaceable, too important to not make it to the end. I can see I have served my purpose in your story, and you’re ready to turn the page. Start a new chapter filled with new adventures full of excitement, love, and growth. I will try to be satisfied in my role I had in your story. I hope I brought something positive to your story. I hope I’m not just another forgotten character, or something that’s looked back on like a mistake or a lesson to learn from.
I don’t know where my story leads now or if I just get ready to close it and stick it back on the shelf. I can’t even think of an ending to write, but either way, I’ll be okay. Just one day when this is over, I hope I get to read how yours finished. I bet it’s going to be amazing.

I sit and wait to hear the words I already know you’ll never say.

And still, I go back.

I run straight into that fire just to steal a few moments of your happiness—to see you smile, to lift you when you’re low, to feel, even briefly, like I matter to you the way you matter to me.

But every time I go back, I get burned.

Some burns fade quickly. Others linger, deeper than I want to admit. Some days I escape untouched, convincing myself maybe this time was different. Other days, I barely make it out at all, crawling hands and knees carrying the weight of it with me long after the flames are gone.

And I keep asking myself—why does real love feel like this?
Why does something so pure come wrapped in so much pain?

It feels like a cruel joke… to be shown something so beautiful, so real, only to know it was never meant to be mine. To taste it just enough to crave it, but never enough to keep it. It leaves behind a kind of hunger that nothing else can satisfy.

Because once you’ve felt something like this… everything else feels dim. Incomplete. Like you’re comparing shadows to something that once burned bright inside you.

So when is enough… enough?

When do I stop running into the fire and finally let myself heal?

I wish I had a better answer. But the truth is… I think I’ll keep going back as long as you’re still standing in it.

Because for you, I would walk through flames of Hell without hesitation.
I would endure the burn, the damage, the risk of not making it back out

Just for one more day.
Just for one more moment.
Just to hear you whisper the words I’ve been waiting for all along

“I love you.”

I sit and wait to hear the words I already know you’ll never say.

And still, I go back.

I run straight into that fire just to steal a few moments of your happiness—to see you smile, to lift you when you’re low, to feel, even briefly, like I matter to you the way you matter to me.

But every time I go back, I get burned.

Some burns fade quickly. Others linger, deeper than I want to admit. Some days I escape untouched, convincing myself maybe this time was different. Other days, I barely make it out at all, crawling hands and knees carrying the weight of it with me long after the flames are gone.

And I keep asking myself—why does real love feel like this?
Why does something so pure come wrapped in so much pain?

It feels like a cruel joke… to be shown something so beautiful, so real, only to know it was never meant to be mine. To taste it just enough to crave it, but never enough to keep it. It leaves behind a kind of hunger that nothing else can satisfy.

Because once you’ve felt something like this… everything else feels dim. Incomplete. Like you’re comparing shadows to something that once burned bright inside you.

So when is enough… enough?

When do I stop running into the fire and finally let myself heal?

I wish I had a better answer. But the truth is… I think I’ll keep going back as long as you’re still standing in it.

Because for you, I would walk through flames of Hell without hesitation.
I would endure the burn, the damage, the risk of not making it back out

Just for one more day.
Just for one more moment.
Just to hear you whisper the words I’ve been waiting for all along

“I love you.”