Shattered

Chaos. Noise. Traffic.
I've crumbled into a pile of ashes that were once me.
Once I was a whole person. Now I'm the broken shards of glass left in the street after a tragic accident.
I'm the tail end of a piecewise function that no one ever remembers, because all life is is just one long, exasperated equation.
Our breathing is an equation. Our heartbeat is an equation, the electricity split into two axes. You can calculate the loss of energy in the moment someone dies. I wonder if he would.
If he lost me would he care?
We live and breathe in equations, we prefer numbers to words most days. Would he care?
Would he calculate the point at which my respirations shallowed and ceased? The increases and decline in the amplitude of my heartbeat. The loss of heat as my blood chilled.
Or would he ask why?
Would he see the cut? Thin, bold, hardly below the surface. Would he see the anguish? Feel the cold? Would he care?

Maybe then he would be able to show his love. Maybe then he would hear me screaming.