The way it was

Whoever came up with the term heartbreak was only half right.

It's not the same break as the shattering of glass. It's more like a cave in. Something within that completely gave away due to a vaccuum formed in the absence of what now seems to have been a physical entity more than just a feeling and made everything around it fall into that void. Things just got displaced, they didn't expand to fill that space.

It's like something sinking. Except that it never finishes sinking. An inconvenient buoyancy or a constantly regenerated barge keeps it in a perennial mood of sunken-ness, if I can call it that. It refuses to rest at the bottom of whatever ocean lies above the stomach.

But it's definitely the heart that feels it. Not the brain, not the peripheral senses, not the lungs. It's the heart. That damn lump of muscle that should have stuck to circulating blood. This is what happens when it steers away from its purpose and decides to frolic around blissfully at the mere recollection of holding his hand and running through the rain towards shelter.

I'm still breathing, that tells me something somewhere is still functional. Time to let the other organs carry on with life.