What sound does a broken heart make?
Is it the metallic sting of an iron-forged tear detonating on a silken pillowcase?
Is it the hoarse whisper of a once-forgotten name unexpectedly surfacing out of some subconscious voice, slipping past lips before the last syllable can be caught and swallowed?
Is it the echoing footsteps of a lost lover’s walk, paradoxically reverberating louder the further its memory moves away?
Or is it simply the silence of words left unspoken, endearments never murmured?
The long empty soulway of neglected love is a deep void filled with bruised pain.
And in this boundless, barren vacuum, the echo of a broken heart shatters like delicate glass, vibrating the eardrums of masochistic mute lovers.