what becomes of the broken hearted?

If love grabs you by the balls, this is my version, of what heart-break does to you...and, trust me, it's happened oh-too-many times:

You are sitting pretty in a big beautiful bubble, staring at the soap-watery colours of the rainbow that surround you, and life is blissful.

Suddenly a big, hairy fist appears, as if out of nowhere. It jabs the bubble and grabs you tight.
It reaches into your mouth, down your throat, clawing at your beating heart. You can’t bite down, you can’t breath, you can’t throw up, you can’t scream out. It wrenches your heart right out, through your throat and out of your mouth, throwing it violently on the floor. Another fist punches you in the gut, leaving you writhing and empty, staring at the blood-stained life-giver, struggling to keep its beat.

And you lie there, trying to breath. And just when you start again, you allow yourself, dim-wittedly, to be consumed by another blissful, soapy bubble.