irregular beats.

"tell me, what do you find beautiful?"

"you'll call me a cynic."

"no. i won't. i promise."

"you're sure?"

"yes."

"a broken heart."

"can i ask why?"

"yes."

"will you tell me?"

"perhaps."

"why?"

"because they're broken."

"i don't follow."

"hearts are beautiful whole. they feel so many things and it's always so beautiful because nothing can experience anything without a heart. not fully, anyways."

"so why are broken hearts so beautiful?"

"because a broken heart has felt too much. it's felt more than any other heart ever has, and it felt so much of it that it couldn't contain it and it broke. it's beautiful because behind the broken part, you can still see the whole of it. the heart. but in the broken bits and pieces, you see another side. a new one. and you see a new beauty. the side that's felt so much it broke, but it's still feeling. it's still feeling broken."

"you sound like you know the feeling."

"not the whole feeling. no."

"what do you mean?"

"have you ever wondered what snow might represent? if rain can be thought of as tears people have shed, then is snow all the tears they've held back?"

"don't change the subject."

"frozen and unable to move freely, just the way tears held back are. and when it lands, it builds up. builds and builds and builds until it melts. and then it can cause floods. and it's cold. like sitting alone. and trying to hold in more and more tears."

"you seem to know that feeling, too."

"i don't know what you're talking about. the difference is that tears taste salty and that if you fall asleep with them, they sting your eyes when you wake up. it's like they just won't let you let go of your pain."

"i think your heart is breaking."

"but then i would be crying myself to sleep and the pain in my chest would be almost unbearable. and i'd feel like if i didn't scream that this pain would devour my insides."

"i don't want to see it break."

"but maybe then i would be beautiful."

"please. don't let it break."

"i don't know how to stop it."