Calling All Angels

The broken heart.
Powerful. Intense. Painful. Dangerous.
We've all been there. Most of us will see it more than once; some of us will experience it's reign only once. I doubt that anyone looks to have their heart broken, unless, of course, one is masochistic in their opinion of themselves that they thrive off of emotional torture.
Earlier this year, I wrote a novella in which the plot asked the question: how many times can a heart be broken before it can no longer heal? It's shattered pieces lie in the depths of an emotional vault where no one can not  reach it...not even it's owner. And what about those times when the heart isn't exactly broken but just cracked?
I'm sure the answers to these questions, basically, are as trivial as their commands, and maybe trying to explore such anarchic reasoning leads to nothing more than a study in vain summation. Hmmm?
It seems that the broken heart takes one on a wild ride of anger, pain, confusion, irrationality and passion so raw that we only feel instead of seeing the power of great vulnerability. Alas, we cannot escape the trip we are taken on. We cannot see an end to the turmoil the broken heart leads us to.
We want to understand. We want it to be over. We sometimes float in the vastness of it's poison leisurely. We want to take control when we know that we can't. The powerlessness is overwhelming, and we feel helpless - we feel like the living dead.
Many of us close our hearts after such an experience. Some of us come through it stronger, wiser and more aware. There are a few of us who promise ourselves never to allow ourselves to become so open - so soft - ever again.
The broken heart changes us, challenges us and consumes us. The broken heart can damage us if we let it. The broken heart can also be a revelation. Sometimes we might not see it's outcome, and, yet, our lives can often thank the broken heart after the death of our exhaustion and the birth of intention.
I return to the question asked in my novella...so I ask myself: how many times has my heart been cracked and/or broken and is it irrepairable?
In high school, I had something of a boyfriend. We fooled around and people thought we were best friends. One night after he came he decided that what we were doing was wrong and that we should start dating girls. I think my heart was just shaken. 
Still in high school, there was a guy who did not pay much attention to me in junior high or the first two years of high school. But out of the blue he started to give me attention that I did not ask for. Honestly, I forgot who Charles really was. We had a couple of classes together and that was it. I fell in love. Charles and I became something of friends...we shared a locker, we took turns buying snacks on breaks, we called each other for homework assignments and we talked here and there. When I discovered that he got a girl in the next town pregnant I was crushed. I quickly tried to take that crushed feeling and refocus it onto someone else. It didn't work. I loved Charles until I was out in the world and...hmmm...
My heart had been unintentionally stomped on. And I moved on.
I had a boyfriend while I was in the military. He's not worth mentioning. He wanted to fuck other guys. I went to Egypt for 30 days and forgot about him. My heart remained intact.
I met a really cool guy and thought I fell in love with him. He initiated our connection with a kiss. I was in pain when he didn't - and couldn't - have feelings for me. My heart would have been broken but I discovered what a whore he was, told him so and we became life long friends. My heart remained solid.
I fell for Matthew after we had run into each other for the third time. I threw my emotions on him and he didn't seem to want them. A few years and a few encounters later, Matthew and I dated. We were awkward. I was too anxious. We fit together very well yet we did not flow with our connection. We seemed to glide here and there with maybe the notion that we were destined to grow old together. Matthew died of cancer and my heart stood still, slowly gathering strength to beat again over time.
I met Scott. We flew into a relationship. Casual dating and a growing comfort with each other confused us. I fell  in love, he fell into domestic chaos. He couldn't have sex with me and wanted an open relationship. I broke up with him. My heart was broken. I worked two jobs, slept 4 hours a night, showered at a bathhouse while living in an office until my life had somehow come together before I realized that I had ended up with a better life than I ever had before.
After numerous encounters with racism in the gay community, my broken heart sealed itself inside of a chamber deep inside of me. So deep that I almost forgot that I had a heart.
I met JD and felt my heart escaped the chamber. And even though I cherished the feeling of having an open heart, I realized that it had been broken. I tried to move on by discovering an open sexuality I'd never encountered before. The attempt at an honest sex life would not be successful.
I forced a new life upon myself with questions marching through my head, a search for understanding and wondering about the condition of my heart.
This is a work in progress...