I want to write a poem for you, a lighthearted one full of morning breath kisses after late nights of bodies intertwined. One worthy enough to be quoted in wedding vows. Except I haven’t had a good night’s rest since the second of December, and the salt has left permanent tracks on my cheeks. My glass heart is glued together with Taylor Swift and therapy sessions, cautiously breathing through the memories anticipating the shatter. One day I’ll write a carefree poem, only it will be about me.