Sensible Brunch

Her eyes rarely lifted as she spoke of him.
"I think he's the devil",
she said with a glance.
I said,
"I've seen the Devils-due,
and this isn't it."
Confused, she examined her heart before bringing it to the table.
Battered,
bruised,
beaten,
but beating.
She thought it proof.
I cupped the heart in my hands,
careful to be gentle.
"Had it been the Devil's work,
there'd be nothing here to see",
I uttered as I dusted it softly.
"You have your heart to give away;
it was never truly taken.
Thus why you're back from where you've been,
and couldn't stay another day."
Perplexed, her eyes focused on the scars. She couldn't quite grasp what it was they truly are:
Tallies, coordinates, trial and error snip-bits, finger prints, written words, poems, paintings, art, a masterpiece of a heart.
"This is fates design,
not a God's resign",
I said as I placed her heart back accordingly.
"Perhaps one day I'll love again",
She said with a grin.
"Only by not doing so,
does the devil ever win",
I replied,
"Love is in the wind,
you'll catch it often if you breathe it in."