He looked at me, with a tear sliding down his cheek. “I seem to have broken my heart.” Staying silent, I painted shadows on my face. In my mind, I saw pieces of my own heart resting on his shoulder. I wonder if I could brush them off, but I assumed I’d look weird trying. I had to glance away, my eyes are too easy to read now.
You trail off, as I tear apart. I wonder if I have somehow switched the sensation of heart break for heartbeat, because the former seems so much more comfortable than the latter.