A broken heart should be visible. Something that hurts that much should not be hidden. The pain, much worse than broken bones, knife wounds, gunshots, chemotherapy, tumors or boils, should be swathed in long, white bandages. The wounded should appear on crutches or in a wheelchair for their heart. Then people would know. They would recognize the injured, they would see the damage and understand, care offer, a kind word. Love is so much like war and a relationship only one long seige, the defenses going up and down as the fortune changes the allies transfer. Couples should wear combat uniforms. The would be bright and freshly ironed in the first days of romance. Then the material would become stained, begin to fray. We would lose a button or two. Anyone looking at us would know where we were, how far we had come. Only the shiny epaulet still attatched, but somehow a symbol of hope. We would emerge victorious.
- Diane Wagman, Bump