Like a vase

Love comes and goes and takes it toll.
Breaking and taking another piece.
My life like my heart has not been covered
in a protective lace
and so im broken, like a vase, that has been battered about the place,
a new crack for a new story, new problem.
I still feel the pain, but really was there any gain.
And the icy winds that rage though these cracks leave reminiscence sharp pain of lost loved ones, that even with all the hope in this, cruel world, wont come back.
Ever again.
And so the only way I can carry on dwelling in this broken life.