When I met the brokenhearted boy

I glanced down to his thread and a lump formed in my throat; I was overwhelmed by sadness. Dangling there was a heart, broken in two. His string had been carefully wrapped around the two pieces, holding them together, the ends tied in a bow. For some reason that detail made it even more depressing... I instantly wished I hadn't looked, because now I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes again through the grated hole in his helmet. I would know now how deep the sorrow in his gaze went, right down to the broken heart on his thread. I could feel my spider crawling up my arm towards my shoulder, to rest in his favorite spot on my collarbone. He was coming to comfort me... he could feel my pain for the boy. I felt immensely grateful for my spider, and that in turn brought a new wave of grief for this broken boy, who had no companion at the end of his thread, only his damaged heart.