fading.


At 16. Heartbreak sounded like a thousand buildings crashing down, a tornado, a countless number of sleepless nights and twisted sheets. An unfamiliar pain and tears coming from places you didn’t know could cry 

At 20. Heartbreak sounded like a car crash, ambulance sirens, a crime scene filled with broken promises, torn love letters and eyes so welled up they just might need a damn to contain them 

At 26. Heartbreak sounds like a forest fire, the crackling of wood turning to ash, a violent wind, breaking of your favorite piece of fine China. A quiet river running down your cheeks when you are caught off guard. 

The noise continuously fades. And I can’t help but think that maybe someday it will all be too familiar. Like an empty home with forgotten memories. The sound of the night when you can’t see the stars. Cold and bare when you realize you have no more tears to cry for love.