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  • Sardara Singh

A Silent Heart

People often imagine a broken heart to be accompanied by the cacophonous crash of shattered glass, resonating with a deafening clarity that leaves no room for doubt. But the reality is so starkly different, so hauntingly silent. There's no announcement, no grand gesture of pain. Instead, it's the vacuum of space, a mute abyss of remnant embers flickering here and there akin to a sputtering candle in a bitter winter.


The world expects a loud lament or a cry of sorrow. But all that escapes is the quiet gasp of air slipping away, like the softest sigh of a deflating balloon. That is the sound of a heart being hollowed out, the sound of emotions being vacuumed into nothingness. 


The hollowness is so intense, so palpable, that the very fibers of being turn numb. The mind, searching for a way to articulate, to scream, finds itself muted.


Why? How? Empty theories on how it went wrong? Hate rears its ugly head. It’s your fault. Denial engulfs you, why? The bargaining begins. We can fix this. No we can’t. Sadness starts the purge. Please just give me a chance to fix this. It’s over, leave me alone. Then…there is nothing left. No anger, no frustration, no nothing. Just a discarded hollow husk that will eventually regain its luster and vitality only for the cycle to repeat.


Time heals all wounds, but the scars will remain. They will linger like a hidden sore waiting to be irritated. They will bide their time in silence, until they can’t.


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