A steady minded person might tell you that everything can be measured, calculated and converted into a language of black and white, solutions worked out with sharpened pencils.
How do I measure my heart breaking?
Tell me,at what rate did my heartstrings snap when he told me he was leaving? How long until all of my broken bones turn into dust? Calculate at what speed the tears rolled down my checks. How many doctors will it take to sew my heart back together? Was it when he crumpled me up like a wasted idea etched onto a piece of notebook paper that everything started to bleed? What part of my brain did his gentle hands touch that woke my monsters from their slumber? How many days until this aching in my swollen chest turns into a gentle throb? When will I be okay again?
Takes this pain and your sharpened pencils and rip the numbers from the dead hands of his name. Do away with the emotion like he did away with me.