My heart is shaped like a stone. One by one, they come and touch it, and whisper their hearts are stones as well. Not pretty. Not smooth. Not symmetrical. Pressed here, crushed there, each hardened in its own strange way, and somehow, it breathes. Colors layer, uneven and unplanned, corners worn down, rounded by time, and still, they call it beautiful. So look, touch softly. My heart is already shared with you.