My heart is shaped like a stone. One by one, they come and touch it gently, 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 still, they call it beautiful. Colors layer, stacked in strange ways, corners worn down, rounded by time, and somehow, it breathes. So look, touch softly. My heart is already shared with you.