The heart doesn’t make noise
When it cracks
It doesn’t cry out loud either
It doesn’t seek help when it needs healing
It doesn’t ask for company when it is grieving.
The heart doesn’t prod when it’s bleeding
You won’t hear a thing when it’s breaking.
The heart slowly dies,
It chokes on the suffering pouring out of its crack
And when it’s slowly breathing its last
When it is drowning in the pool of sorrow
When it’s decaying with the pieces of its shattered self
Is when you know.
But it’s too late to save it
There is no hope now.
It’s amazing that the heart makes no noise when it cracks – Unknown.
Editor’s note: The poem was written during the third Writer’s Meetup. If you want to take part in the meetup and other workshops, stay updated with our page.