What a Broken Heart Feels Like

the closet I’ve come to explaining how a broken heart feels like especially when it’s yourself who’s broken it

   A bandaged heart. Everyday you added a layer. First day, a white wrap. Next day, you added a peach bandaid. Pressed it with a kiss. Soon you added more to protect my heart in case it broke on the plane when I couldn’t jump out for you. Day by day, my heart was closing in, shrinking under the case of white and nude. All along, you placed those bandaids on my heart thinking if I break alone, you would save me. But you never thought I’d make it through the 14 hour long plane ride. You didn’t know I’d make it through a few days without your touch. You thought I’d fall as every inch of me would break except for my bandaged-suffocating heart.

   Once I left, I was paralyzed. Nothing seemed real when you weren’t minutes away from me. It couldn’t have been real being 6000 miles from you, a life-journey to walk to your heart. I couldn’t think anymore. I couldn’t feel anymore (and it wasn’t just because of my suffocating heart). I was numb. What a feeling to have no emotions, no reality. I was sick of it. So one night, when your texts weren’t enough to block the faded moonlight across the desert, I ripped everything apart. Each bandaid was stripped off. Blood flowed out. It stung, it burned. Pain from the suffocation, pain from the numb muscle (that didn’t and couldn’t work for months). I ripped them all off as water diluted the blood on the brick floor. I finally felt again (but not the way feelings are supposed to feel). I felt pain, I felt sadness, I felt suffocation even when all your threads were off my heart. You thought those would protect my breaking heart. You were wrong. My heart was never safe. It could never have been safe as it was mine. I was the one who broke my heart.

   No one breaks another’s heart. What happened to mine was a result of my hands. Heartstrings caught on tape, you couldn’t watch. My heart didn’t break on the plane. Those bandaids didn’t help while my heart shrunk. That case of protection killed what I had. I had to figure that out myself and break the numbness I left myself in. Your bandages were bleeding on the floor while my heart screamed for oxygen. I couldn’t do anything else except wait. Wait for time to pass and heart to live again.

Reviews

[Abilash Uttama]

i too believe that emotions are product of our thinking, even though we know that it will not end well but we still persist to crave for someone and in spite of every small setbacks we continue too crave until we are totally broken and then if we blame anyone else for breaking our heart that will be wrong because it was our naive attitude that lead to the result. Nice piece !

[Rasha Lama]

yea totally right, thankss

[Abilash Uttama]

welcome and i have written a poem over similar theme, pay a visit when you are free :)

[Rasha Lama]

definitely :)