We swallow our hearts to save the hearts of the ones we love. Out of fear of their feelings, their hearts, our doubts. We squelch the fires of our own passion so it doesn't burn the bridges to the ones we are closest to, and in the end we are the ones who are consumed. How fickle it is to be destroyed by holy fire when our intentions aren't malcontent. Lips pressed with words we withhold, locking them tight with the same lock we put on our hearts. In the end, we do what we think is best for them, and then we learn to let go.