HEARTBREAK HAPPENS IN THE GUT

True heartbreak occurs in the gut,
not the heart.
It's a slow, symphonic chorus
born of the vibrations of
one hundred thousand strings at once.
It's the moment after you've
plunged into the water
and all the little bubbles
that had been refracting light
leave you behind.
They each burst
with a lazy,
dragging tone;
or else they just float away.
And it happens in your gut.
It happens slowly and
it happens in the dead center of you and
it doesn't stop happening.
It gurgles, and
it churns, and the cello
makes you languid
with worry, and the violin
slices your cells
until you're sitting,
immobile in fear, and
torn apart, and
you look around you, and
you see all of those things—
those things that used to make life
a place where you could breathe easily—
those things leave you,
those things turn on you, and
your stomach wrenches,
churns,
gasping
hoping
holding
waiting
waiting, and
sinking.