She likes to believe that she learns from her mistakes. She knows what those mistakes were. She knows exactly what led to them and what they led to. Once bitten, twice shy? In theory, perhaps. She likes to tell herself that she is smarter than this. But words mean a lot to her. Maybe too much. Definitely too much. Why doesn’t she put as much emphasis on actions, she wonders. She wonders this after those words have left her disappointed. Words spoken by a person she barely knew but put her faith in have let her down. She knows she should not have placed that faith in someone who hadn’t proved anything to her. Words are empty unless substantiated by actions. She knows and, at the same time, doesn’t. Her mind catches glimpses of the pattern and knows the cycle that will eventually repeat. It is all too familiar. The mind knows better, but the heart chooses to believe. The mind reasons and reasons well. The heart chooses to see none of that. Oh foolish heart! It has no memory of its follies. It repeats them over and over again. It cannot see itself. It is unaware of its fragments, jagged from being broken so often, now carefully, painstakingly pieced together to make it seem whole. It believes the illusions presented in front of it. It refuses logic. The mind sees the impending tragedy. It makes her say the words out loud. It makes her aware of sensible courses of action. Unbeknownst to her, the heart is silently setting itself up for disfigurement, quietly believing those faithless words, secretly anticipating happiness. The mind, faithful to her, may be louder than the heart, but it is not more powerful. Yes, the mind has learned from the heart’s mistakes, but the heart…oh her treacherous heart.