A heartbreak is literal. It begins with an ache in your chest, and for the first time, you hardly know it until you begin to welcome it like an old friend. Its not like how they dramatize it. Its not like a sharp stab in the thigh, or the rip of a muscle. A heart break is gradual, like a flower leaving its bloom, like the sun meeting the horizon, like life leaving earth. A heartbreak is literal.
Did your heart beat hitch in anticipation when you met her today? Did a smile appear on your face when you spotted her through the crowd? Did you lovingly whisper her name when she came within ear shot? Did your fingers find the spaces between hers? Did your hands deftly find the curvature of her spine? Did you hold her in your arms? Did you deeply inhale when you realised she hadn’t changed her shampoo? Did you habitually run your fingers through her hair? Did she tell you she loved you? Did you tell her you did too?
A heartbreak is literal. The breaths you take trying to calm your shattering heart. The furious blinks you take to will the tears away. The burning in your chest and stomach and the sickening need to retch. They’re all your heartbreaking. Because a heartbreak is literal. And when it breaks, the rest of you falls apart too.