My heart is like a stage and it lovingly welcomes everyone who passes by. It longs for an audience and it puts on a show for anyone who stays long enough to watch the opening act.

My heart is transparent. There is no curtain to hide any mistakes or scars or wardrobe change. It fearlessly dances around like a star during the darkness of the night. It puts on one hell of a show.

My heart is on exhibit. It’s free for anyone to hold and admire. From time to time it gets dropped, but somehow it still manages to shine. I’m surprised it hasn’t changed colour from all the times it’s been stepped on.

And when the show is over and everyone has seen and touched all that they’ve wanted, my heart is left bruised.

There is nobody who claps, or cheers or comes baring roses. I am left alone and I carefully place plasters over the scars of my heart.