A Heart that Shatters.
My heart breaks on a regular basis.
The pieces shatter apart quickly and for the most part even painlessly.
It is the gasp of an unheard sob that catches in my throat. You can't hear it. No one but me can even tell it is there. It doesn't reach much further than the very base of my throat. I think maybe it is created by the sharp exhale from my heart when it shatters. I can smile through it, even sing through it, if I wanted to.
I walk down to see the sunset, and my heart shatters.
A flock of birds carve a perfect V - skimming so close, so close, to the surface. A wave breaks higher than the others and the birds scatter in as many different directions as there are birds in the flock. They come swiftly back together. You wouldn't even have known they broke apart. If you weren't there to see it.
My heart shatters and scatters in as many different directions as there are pieces for it to be made of. You wouldn't have even known it broke apart. If you weren't there to see it.
I don't know why this happens. I can't tell when it is going to happen, either. Sometimes I am perfectly content when it happens (maybe that is why). Sometimes I am focused so intently on a task - sorting through flattened cardboard boxes looking for one perfect size. As I find one and stand up to carry it away, an interior gasp and a broken heart. (It's okay. You wouldn't even know it was broken. If you weren't there to see it.)
Rarely am I sad, though.
Sadness doesn't break my heart. At least, it doesn't shatter my heart in the same way. Sadness is a heartache. A heart that is heavy, so that it falls from my chest cavity, leaving an empty, hollow, echoing space behind. I think it must fall into my stomach, because with a heartache I find that I can't eat.
My heart shatters over small joys. Memories. Perfect pictures I would like to keep in my head forever.
Generally speaking, I am a happy person. I don't often let the weight of troubles burden me for too long. I let them roll off me. Straight over the top, with hardly a chance to wave goodbye. I have no interest in stress or worry, and really just hate being anything but happy. Which only means that when I feel sad or angry or hurt or scared or stressed or or or any feeling other than happy, we make a plan to find our way back to happy ASAP. I know this has gotten me into trouble in the past. I know sometimes it seems like I don't care. I just care quickly. Like a sharp heart that shatters. And as the pieces pull back together, they carry a piece of the sadness into my heart, where I can guard it and think on it, but still (somehow) keep happy. It's important to me. To be happy.
And so, my heart, it shatters.
It breaks on a regular basis.
A sob catches in my throat. Totally undetectable.
You wouldn't even have known it happened. If you weren't there.
The pieces shatter apart quickly and for the most part even painlessly.
It is the gasp of an unheard sob that catches in my throat. You can't hear it. No one but me can even tell it is there. It doesn't reach much further than the very base of my throat. I think maybe it is created by the sharp exhale from my heart when it shatters. I can smile through it, even sing through it, if I wanted to.
I walk down to see the sunset, and my heart shatters.
A flock of birds carve a perfect V - skimming so close, so close, to the surface. A wave breaks higher than the others and the birds scatter in as many different directions as there are birds in the flock. They come swiftly back together. You wouldn't even have known they broke apart. If you weren't there to see it.
My heart shatters and scatters in as many different directions as there are pieces for it to be made of. You wouldn't have even known it broke apart. If you weren't there to see it.
I don't know why this happens. I can't tell when it is going to happen, either. Sometimes I am perfectly content when it happens (maybe that is why). Sometimes I am focused so intently on a task - sorting through flattened cardboard boxes looking for one perfect size. As I find one and stand up to carry it away, an interior gasp and a broken heart. (It's okay. You wouldn't even know it was broken. If you weren't there to see it.)
Rarely am I sad, though.
Sadness doesn't break my heart. At least, it doesn't shatter my heart in the same way. Sadness is a heartache. A heart that is heavy, so that it falls from my chest cavity, leaving an empty, hollow, echoing space behind. I think it must fall into my stomach, because with a heartache I find that I can't eat.
My heart shatters over small joys. Memories. Perfect pictures I would like to keep in my head forever.
Generally speaking, I am a happy person. I don't often let the weight of troubles burden me for too long. I let them roll off me. Straight over the top, with hardly a chance to wave goodbye. I have no interest in stress or worry, and really just hate being anything but happy. Which only means that when I feel sad or angry or hurt or scared or stressed or or or any feeling other than happy, we make a plan to find our way back to happy ASAP. I know this has gotten me into trouble in the past. I know sometimes it seems like I don't care. I just care quickly. Like a sharp heart that shatters. And as the pieces pull back together, they carry a piece of the sadness into my heart, where I can guard it and think on it, but still (somehow) keep happy. It's important to me. To be happy.
And so, my heart, it shatters.
It breaks on a regular basis.
A sob catches in my throat. Totally undetectable.
You wouldn't even have known it happened. If you weren't there.
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