A girl with a heart of stone lived in a house of cards.
Across a great divide, in the land of the rising sun, lived a girl with a heart of glass.
Their eyes never met and the friendship they maintained was swung across a twine bridge.
They shared a secret. A moment. A twisted history. A common denominator.
Their secret poisoned them in an equal measure of degree and time.
Its taste was sweet and lingered but the longer it lingered the more the taste grew too familiar.
And with familiarity came comfort. And with comfort came the fear of the unknown.
And so the two girls were trapped, enslaved by their secret.
The shackles would sometimes feel too tight, and at other times too loose.
But they were prisoners nonetheless.
The heart of glass broke time and time again.
It's owner would kneel down and pick up the shards of glass every time the heart broke.
The heart grew weaker every time it was mended.
Until one day, on a clear and honest day, the girl with the glass heart paused.
In the shattered pieces of amethyst in her hand she saw the fractured minutes, hours, days, and weeks that had been wasted on maintaining and caring for the secret.
Because secrets need to be looked after.
They need love and attention.
Just like a newly born baby they need to be fed, and they will keep you up at night, sick with worry.
She'd had enough. She decided to let the secret go. She allowed the secret to go out into the world.
To let it entwine another heart. A heart that was not hers. She bore the weight of the secret no more.
Her shoulders straightened and she turned to the sun and let its warm fingers explore every line and angle of her face.
Even the lines of worry that she had concealed for far too long were bathed in the warmth of the sun.
The sun touched her mouth and uncovered a smile. The Sun unmasked a peace that he himself absorbed.
In a sullen room across the great divide sat the girl with the deadened heart.
The sun could not reach as far as this dark place.
The secret had bored its way through her soul and settled in her heart turning it as black as ash.
Without the secret her cold heart would shrivel and die.
And so she lived out her days controlled by a secret that choked her whole existence.
Even in the presence of warmer hearts, hearts that were ready to give of their own light, she hid in the dark.
She clutched to the secret as if it were the air she breathed.
She was never able to see that the air she breathed, made her sick as well.
