This is something I wrote cause I’m going through a heartbreak lol. Hope you enjoy!
Is this how it feels to drown or is this how it feels to be in love?
The difference between the two is minimal. My lungs are filled with water. They heave and contract in a desperate attempt to push out the current. My mind tells my lungs it's okay. You don't have to try to keep the waves out. For they will throw me against the rocks if drowning doesn't kill me.
I've never wanted to be painted but now I imagine myself crafted out of oil paints in rich shades of despair. Each stroke of a brush caresses the canvas in movements of grief, each one slower than the last. And what do I look like to the painter's eyes?
Surely they cannot paint me with clothes on. I'm to be laid bare, so that the observer can feel the breeze potruding out of the hole in my chest. My ribcage aches for the organ it has lost. My heart has long since been neglected. Left on my bedroom floor the day you reached through my phone and clawed it out of me.
And how am I supposed to love again when I do not know how to make my heart beat once more? What if i put it back in my chest wrong? What if my lungs reject it? For the heart is the reason for my drowning. Can I die without my heart in my chest? Or will I just be forever unfeeling? Which is worse?
And what am I to do with this unbeating thing that was once a piece of me? For when i prod cautiously at it with my finger I feel no twinge, nothing. Maybe it's best to leave it on the carpet. Let dust build it's home on top of it.
My brain however, seems to be fully in tact. It's laughing at the still thing in the corner of my room. Like an arrogant sibling telling it 'I told you so.' My heart weeps without beating and sometimes when I wake in the darkness, I hear its cries.
Maybe it just feels left out. After all, my other organs are where they should be. Maybe it feels lonley. For my heart misses its equal. It misses the red twin that remains beating within his ribcage now.
The lifeless heart lays collecting dust, and yearning for its partner. Every step he takes that is further away from me, my heart sinks deeper into my carpet. I'm afraid I will have to dig a hole for it so that my floor won't be completely destroyed. Maybe a small grave would do. Because maybe the further away my heart is from me, the better. For my heart is what is making me drown.