A darling friend asked in mournful tones,"Did he ever really care for me? Did he ever really love me?"
Ah yes, another broken heart. I imagine the pain is like a piece of glass shattering, all the shards flying, ripping, cutting, slashing... rebounding upon itself and tearing new wounds over and over again... you may even feel as if you'll never be whole again, as if the pieces can never come together again...
A painful story repeated , all over the world, throughout the centuries.... crossing all boundaries; skin colour, castes, .... It's such a common story, yet awful in its freshness and its totality to the sufferer.
After so many years listening to other friends, handling my own little 'breakages' and drinking so many mugs of Nescafe (panacea for all ills!), I have learned that there is no fixing a broken heart. The best one can do is to mourn the loss of dreams & hopes, cry a little (or a lot!), drink lots of coffee (or whatever) and remember the best of the other person. There is no point in remembering the bad for it only embitters you. But it's worth remembering the joy and laughter because for a short period of time, that other person made you the best that you can be.
James M. Barrie had this to say about love : If you have it, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.
So a broken heart means that you love.... be happy that you CAN love...and give yourself time to mourn. After that, pick yourself up and live. Then love again.