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Cold
A cold hand touches iron
while something burning
keeps descending slowly
through the center of my chest.
Not fast enough to kill me instantly.
Just slowly enough to let me witness
every inch of myself becoming pain.
And maybe that is the strangest part-
how calmly a human being
can continue breathing
while something inside them
is quietly dying alive.
Sometimes I wonder
it heartbreak was never meant
to break the heart.
Only to show us
how much suffering
the soul can survive
without making a sound.
