Heartache. Why do they call it that? My heart doesn’t feel anything at all. It’s an organ. A bloody clump of tissue that pumps blood in and out and around.
You’re a headache, just a headache. A migraine maybe. Because my heart didn’t ‘ache’ when you went, when you left, when you disappeared. My head did. Does. It’s in a million tiny shards, and the sounds they made when they shattered still echoes in the cavernous spaces and corners in my head. In my mind. A mind ache.
And it didn’t- doesn’t even really ache. It throbs and spasms. It’s agony.
I am in agony.
Heartache is that contrived, over exaggerated term used by kids who think they know what it’s like to feel.
Me? I feel. I feel too much. I feel for you.
Heartache. Why do they call it that? My heart doesn’t feel anything at all. It’s an organ. A bloody clump of tissue that pumps blood in and out and around.
You’re a headache, just a headache. A migraine maybe. Because my heart didn’t ‘ache’ when you went, when you left, when you disappeared. My head did. Does. It’s in a million tiny shards, and the sounds they made when they shattered still echoes in the cavernous spaces and corners in my head. In my mind. A mind ache.
And it didn’t- doesn’t even really ache. It throbs and spasms. It’s agony.
I am in agony.
Heartache is that contrived, over exaggerated term used by kids who think they know what it’s like to feel.
Me? I feel. I feel too much. I feel for you.