Does the heart not callus like the hands?
The hands grow when faced with pain and provide succour to themselves.
Why does the heart not do so?
How lovely it would be if the heart were not stripped raw to its foremost layer every time it ached.
How sweet it would be if it could resist the Venus traps glazed with honey that these eyes are tempted with.
Am I to expect to be stripped raw each and every time?
I suppose.