the breaking point

I wrote this a little while back, fixed it up and kind of like how it turned out.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

and those words: a final pang
a gear of the heart undone
a floodgate of each eye risen
such fluid prose congealing before recognition
choked up on reality,
                     a concept too grand to see,
a notion to desperate to suggest.
That resounding pang
beating in the walls of my being
                                                        echoing back
                                                                                  to every shadow of my mind
reverberating questions
                     without answers
Practicality.
Sensibility.
Numbness...
    more than words gone by
senses left to

                     drown.
to flail between tile and water
         muffled into pillows
lifted by prayers
pasting together
                  cracking smiles
                                          for so long.
nothing
but time can attempt to mend
    -- dare I say restart? --
the gears of a broken heart.