It's the heartbreak, I can hear it everyday.

I can hear the muscles tense when something reminds her of you, I can hear them turn to steel, cold steel. Having them choke her from the inside out, having them take her breath away and weigh her down. Those exact muscles that she used to use to hug you, to kiss you and love you. The muscles she used to try and cheer you up, to buy you everything she could afford, to drive you everywhere you needed to go, to be yours. The muscles she used to imagine your life together and believe that getting married could be a reality in the end. The muscles she used to keep coming back to you until you finally grabbed her in your arms and got all of her, all of her until you let go and dropped her fifteen stories with nobody else to catch her. The muscles that broke and tore and ripped the flesh off her bones when gravity finally threw her into the ground. A mountain of soil and a nicely dug grave, she thought it was over. However, muscles do not follow what you imagine, in the sense where even though a hammer is plunged into her heart each and every-time she wakes up and goes to sleep. Those muscles are not real, they are heartbreak. Everything hurts when somebody’s heart breaks and hers was so open for the hit that it practically exploded on impact. Muscles can form again and they can rebuild, they can enforce another layer to protect and prevent this occurrence from happening again at such a lethal rate, but muscles can’t rebuild trust, that is the hearts doing. And with the heart out of business and under construction, nobody should be trusted. Nobody is trustworthy anymore. What happened to her this time, would never be aloud to get through the stone wall the next time. She would wait, she would wait, wait, wait. She would stop time and zone out, she would stare into the abyss. She would heal this time, she would learn, rebuild and improve. She would become destructive.