Heartbreak isn’t a break.
It isn’t the shattering of glass,
Whole one second, cracked and broken the next.
It isn’t the snap of a tree branch,
Or more relatable, a bone.
Its not the fracture you get in your arm from falling off the monkey bars.
No one signs your cast with names and hearts,
No, heartbreak isn’t a break.
It’s a slow burn that fills your heart and encompasses your being.
It starts in your stomach,
Once filled with butterflies, it is now a pit.
Those butterflies have turned to acid and try to escape through your esophagus.
Is this heartburn?
Yes, but not in the way you imagined
Your heart is burning.
Soon there is no oxygen left, the flames used it as fuel.
Your lungs are filled with smoke and you can’t breathe.
Your body, once a forest. Your heart, once a garden
Are now kindling for a fire that you don’t know you’ll survive