I'm so tired of writing about how you broke my heart.
I'm tired of herding lambs into the ocean, watching them entangle and fade into the sea foam.
I listen to their cries, how it sounds like the great barrier reef dying, the coral dissipating and the sharks shedding their fins.
I guess the number of tabs it takes for your brain to think in color.
I guess the number of bowls you've smoked trying to unlearn my name.
I guess the number of days until you're running the track marks up your arm.
I ***** my eyes shut and say, "stop thinking about him."
I watch as your face morphs into a rose, spreading petals across my ribs like tumbleweeds.
My heart strings braid themselves to keep from snapping.
This isn't happening.