When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall in makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it's completely silent. You would think as it's so importaant it would make the loudest noise in the world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it's silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.

If there is a noise, it's internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loud your ears ring and your head aches. It trashes around in your chest like a great white shark caught in the sea; it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taiken. That's what it looks like and that's what it sounds like, a thrashing, a panicking, trapped great big beast, roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions. But that's the thing about love - no one is untouchable. It's as wild as that, as raw as an open flesh wound exposed to salty sea water, but when it actually breaks, it's silent. You're just screaming on the inside and no one can hear it.

Taken from Cecilia Ahern in 'If You Could See Me Now' and this is what I feel this very moment a scream that is unheard of and a pain to hard to bare.