breathe.
because you know what you
do when someone ***** you
over? you calmly take your
heart out of their hands
and leave. you think maybe
you'll sew it back on to
your sleeve but not now, not
today. you put their things
in a box (their cds, their
shirts, their books, their
notes, the little things you
picked up on your dates)
and you put it on the
highest shelf in your
closet, because someday
you will want to remember
them, maybe. if you don't
want to remember them, you
give them the box, you
donate the box, you throw
the box in the river. and
you breathe. because you
deserve better. you deserve
someone who doesn't consider
you a fallback, a plan b.
you will be someone's plan.
you will be the only plan.
you will be my-god-what-
was-i-doing-before-you-
walked-around-that-
corner. remember that
you are enough.
breathe.

I opened my mouth
and let out the
feathers I've had
hidden in there
since the first morning
I woke up to your
fingers wiggling
on my shoulder,
let the emptiness
settle deep in my
stomach. But I need
reasons to feel whole,
so today I find the
thought that you will
never walk up my
marble staircase again,
never put your hand
on my doorknob again,
never complain about my
pink couch again, never
bat away my fern that
has overgrown its place
again, never spend time
finding my most
ticklish spots again,
never stop in the
kitchen on your way
out to kiss me goodbye
again, never wave at
me with just one finger
the way I so loved
again to be oddly
comforting. I'm glad
you will not be
coming over anymore.

I am sorry that I
wrote so many
beautiful
things
about
you.