Love, your arrow pierced my heart.

And at that moment I realized: sometimes gaining love is just as painful as losing it. If you've ever fallen in it, you know. A broken heart is what happens when that arrow gets ripped out later and Cupid runs away laughing while you bleed out that jagged hole.

If the arrow's big enough with a tip sharp enough, your heart just shatters into a million shards, then. You can try to put it back together but the pieces morph and metastasize and they'll never fit with each other the same way again, like that jigsaw puzzle you spilled your glass of milk on when you were five and you cried over it then. And you still do. We're always told we shouldn't but we do. We always do.

If your heart gets shot through again best case scenario it staunches the bleeding to slow trickle but it never heals the wound. The edges will never meet to close it up completely and the ache will fade but you'll still feel a pain, sharp and acute like broken glass in your damn soul, for time to time.

The End

I'm sorry this is not a happy tale. It wasn't told by a fairy.