Assiduously
She presses pen to paper
Hoping to bleed out the ink
As if she might bleed out all the pain she has been harboring for far too long

She knows these men
The ones whom have held her hand in evenings spent in inebriation
In fleeting instances of attention mistaken for affection

She knows men like this are cut from fabric too weak to lend itself to depth
And yet she’s as guilty as they come
Filling a void with
Big words and lost hope

She thinks that broken hearts are for those whom are willing to admit they have hearts
Because in a society driven by ******* framed as success
We benefit from acting apathetic

She wonders if it might be true
How everyone warns her that someday some man will win her heart

But she’s not keen on fairytales
And no matter how much Rumi she fills her beautiful brain with
She knows that another can only meet us as deeply as they have met themselves

So she pauses
Places her pen carefully on the counter
Takes a deep breath

And says “I love you. Always.”
And she remembers that loneliness is a far off island
When you love yourself enough
To say it out loud

She has broken her own heart in seeking love from those incapable of offering it enough times to know
That the only person worth being broken hearted over is oneself

So she lays her head gently against her pillow
And she is grateful for old philosophy
And for a life lived in self love

And her open heart is at peace
If only for another night