How?

The tide washes away hums of heartbreak with saltwater, stinging, cleansing. I sit by the shore, feet in water on a cold december evening and think as my toes turn blue and numb, as twilight changes into night and the moon shines in an empty sky. A round, white orb in the midst of vast blackness.

And I think.

I think, and I think, and I think, till my thoughts transform themselves into a mesh of barbed wire that plunges into my mind, and the pounding in my ears grows louder and louder till I can't differenciate it from the roar of the frothy waves, can't tell which is more real.

***********
In the warmth of bed there is cold. An empty, hollow, frozen feeling of oblivion. There is no respite from the numbness that seeps in as hot tears come out in spurts, sudden, stifled, choking sobs. All let out into the inky blackness of quilts pulled up over.

**********
How do I let it happen every time, and why?
So used to it now, I've even got a soundtrack for it. Apparently, my personal soap opera doesn't end.