The Girl with the Glass Heart

He pitied the girl with the glass heart
               for she was not made of stone like him.
He thought, “her poor, battered heart must be so broken
               that its shards cut her from within.
She must wish she was not so fragile,
               that she was unbreakable like me.”
Then one day she said to him,
               “my love, how I wish you were free.
I pity you and your marble heart,
               carved of the hardest stone,
So unmovable by anything—
               you must be so alone.”

Shocked, he argued, “but you must feel such pain
               in that frail, little heart,
and I know nothing of sorrow
               for I have remained apart.”

Eyes and voice soft, she persisted,
Stubborn and silent, he listened:
“I know your black, granite heart is beating,
               but I realize you just survive;
a statue standing still so long
               can’t know what it means to be alive.
You pity me for my feelings ,
               I pity you for your lack,
and I hope you know that one day
               even the strongest stone can crack.”

“You think my heart is made of glass—
               I believe it is wrought of gold.
Either way, it must be better
               than a heart that is so cold.
Over time all breaks will mend,
               So darling don’t you see?
Don’t you wish your heart was glass,
               that you were breakable like me?”

Looking at the girl he loved
               he understood at last,
and the boy who was made of stone envied
               The Girl with the Heart of Glass.