There are quiet ways to die where the body just doesn’t notice that the heart is gone.
My heart should be breaking, too, but there comes a point when you’re so inured to loss that you no longer feel the lash.
My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.
My heart raced. He needs you, I thought. Don't let him down. I couldn't remember ever being so happy... or so scared.
For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.
A divided heart offers a strange sensation.
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