The Heart is not a Thinking Tool

Her broken heart throbs in the open void. Her feelings jumbling her train of thought. Memories return her to good times and bad. Of interwoven souls filigreed life. The tears course down pale cheeks to singly descend. Again her thoughts go back and forth still ignorant of what inspired the change. Had she done something? Unwittingly, wrong, or right? Her emotions once more cloud her vision in blood. She retreats back, her heart unmended, answers unknown, again.