It's funny, loving something that's broken. One day you hope it might be fixed, but in the meantime, you carry on tending the shattered frame. For that's what you've been left. Not out of your choice or even any sense of duty, but out of a combination of happenstance and your unwillingness to walk away. You tenderly care for the broken pieces, nursing them, willing them to repair themselves. But you have to acknowledge that your efforts might, ultimately, prove futile. Fruitless. And you might still be left achingly alone. Yet... you love the thing that's broken and somehow you can't turn your back. So, for now, you'll just have to sit. And wait.