Tuesday, April 4, 2017


The problem with heartbreak
is that after it's over, there is no such thing as technical support
There is no one to call
There is no disaster clean up crew
You're left with pieces of you, shattered-
Scattered across the lower 48 like seed
ground into shards impossible to repair
through traditional methods

The way to mend heartbreak is
nine thousand one hundred and thirty-six  parts alcohol
Three dozen poems strewn across several journals that you will never fill
You can try to fill the void with objects
A new haircut
A new home
A new name
But it will never be the same

The way to heal heartbreak
Is through drowning yourself in work
in other people's words
with other people's hands
The truth of heartbreak is that there is no going back.
It causes permanent irreparable damage
It shows up on every scan, yet there never seems to be a plan
You will never have that optimism to keep you sane
It simply hurts too much hiding behind this pain.

I scrawl down my feelings like they were my last rites
Like my hands can somehow articulate this complicated situation
To reveal some deep down clarity
As if writing is exorcism
and the ink that is my blood takes the place of holy water in this ritual

The problem with heartbreak
is that everything you can think of to mend it is water soluble
Blood, tears, sweat- on and on
Until you wake up in the middle of the night
Your broken heart chugging along.
It used to race, but it's too weak now.

Hands grasp at ghosts while you struggle
Looking at the empty pillow
and wondering if there would ever be a way to jump
into a universe where you were still here
next to me.

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