When a Heart Breaks, Does it Make a Sound?

One of the more depressing and rather controversial pieces I've written. Never really liked this one.

When a heart breaks,

Does it make a sound?

Because I find that every day I hear broken hearts as they stampede into my eardrums,

Caressing my lips with the lives they would have led,

I find them dead.

When a heart breaks does it make a sound?

Do we hear the cutting of a knife as it scrapes through skin,

Slicing through memories and carving through ideas,

Do we hear the killer’s muffled reply that,

“Some things just aren’t meant to be, honey,”

And the victim,

Stares back at him with those eyes that seem to know the map of the world,

Every nook and cranny memorized,

Every continent and city learned by name so that when he leaves,

She can travel to a place where she can forget her name and his.

When a heart breaks, does it make a sound?

Does the fire department come running,

With hoses and buckets,

And fight fire with fire?

The blaze has already claimed its victims.

Do we hear the sirens screaming “more, more more!”,

Cheering the killer  as he delivers the final blow,

We still feel the afterglow,

When a heart breaks, does it make a sound?

Yes.

A whisper.

Shame.

Shame on the ones whose hearing has faded to loud music and crowds.

Shame to the ones who cannot hear the little things.

Shame.

So she watches.

As headlights brush against cold rain,

Driving off into nowhere

Driving off into nowhere

She pleads.

She follows the sound of her broken heart to the bathroom,

Where the blood has already stained the tile,

The blood

The blood

She falls.

To the ground as she weeps--she cannot contain herself anymore.

So she crawls.

Crawls to the kitchen where her knife lays.

The same one she used to cut her breakfast this morning

Now it will cut her

Cut her.

She knows.

She knows that when a heart breaks, it makes only one sound.

A whisper.

The same whisper that told her last night,

“I love you”

The same whisper that muttered to her as she fell asleep on his shoulder,

“Never let go”

The same whisper that completed her,

“You are my other half”

The same whisper that held her, loved her, fell for her,

Now stabs her right back.

Just like the knife does,

As it pierces her skin.

When a heart breaks, does it make a sound?

Yes, a whisper.

Shame on the ones whose hearing has faded to loud music and crowds.

Shame to the ones who cannot hear the little things.

Shame on those who overlook her whisper.

Shame on him.

Author's Note

Never liked this piece, always found it to be way to aggressive. You feel the same?