It will come like a landslide
   Rapid, sudden, —as if it were alive
       A heartbreak, defined by teenagers
           is losing your lovers,
But, my darling, it isn't always about love;
   Sometimes it's broken dreams and hidden sobs.
        It's the empty eyes of a child,
           Once filled with joy and delight
talking about what she loves.
    It's the teary eyes of a scientist
        Looking at paintings,
            She never drew.  
It's the eyes that keep looking back
   To the past that lacked.
        It's the hole in one's heart
            That can't seem to be filled. And yet we always thrive
   each day to survive,
       All along
           Unknowingly finding pieces
             that are making us feel one again.
                                             —a.c