It´s raining.
Drops falling on my heart, drilling holes through it like acid on paper, leaving nothing back than the black shadow at the edge of it.
The drops were reaching deeper and deeper into my heart, making me cry out all the words I had left in my empty, dying mind.
The drops became bigger, turning into trickles of water. The trickles turned into brooks and the brooks finally into an unstoppable stream, racing down my heart.
Happiness, sadness … every emotion, no matter how small it is, was floating out of me, my heart becoming carved out part for part like an old pumpkin on Halloween, only leaving the rotting shell back during my feelings vanished in a black hole.
It was done.
Slowly the rain stopped carving more and more holes into the empty shell of my heart, the stream became weaker and the drops started to dry up, leaving my maltreated heart all alone again, blood dripping off on every curve.
The once so bright surrounding changed into a dark one, shutting out every beam of light completely. My death heart, thrown into a bucket of oil, slowly sinking to the ground.
With last strength the holes became sealed as best as possible, locking up six last drops inside the shell.
It were those drops which changed everything. The drops, which triggered all of this destruction and pain with simply being there.
That was the moment when those drops turned into words, words which I will carry and which will accompany me through the rest of my life.
"I don´t love you, Shira."
That was kind of an experiment. Let me know if you want more.