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Tag Archives: heartbreak

The first split, perhaps, occurred in a small hospital room,
where I huddled on a chair, much like Crane’s desert beast,
eating my own heart. The man who put me there remained
outside, removed forever after that. And I grew a new heart.

Our old hearts do not disappear once digested, it turns out.
Rather, they’re reborn in a new beast, a new you, a shadow.
Moments create monsters; it’s that skeletal woman in Martyrs,
stuck in my mind behind me, slinking around wherever I go.

Naked and emaciated, starving, tortured, following forever.
I slide quarters into a vending machine on a cold day, alone,
and struck with a chill, I see her—behind the corner, creeping,
reminding me of something, many things, that certain thing.

My old heart, devoured, hanging black inside those brittle ribs,
beats with the weighty thoughts, angsts, desires, and pains
dating back five years, to the taste of my heart in the hospital.
The woman stares at me, her heart beating, reminding me.

When she grew too familiar to scare me, it happened again:
A moment standing in the kitchen, then sinking to my knees,
crushed and screaming, weak, dry-heaving, barely breathing,
eating my heart whole with both hands, somehow still living.

So she appeared, another woman, another old mangled heart
of mine, cradled between her gray breasts, crawling toward me,
both of them at once or singularly, during those weaker moments,
staring, beating, breathing, seeing, both memories embodied.

I can taste it again, on my tongue, when I see them every so often.
The women who were once me, monsters shaped from memory,
carrying the broken consumed things, those past devoured feelings,
waiting for my red lips, white teeth, fresh blood, new company.

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I hate you so—I want to touch the contour of your face,
look into those blue eyes and long lashes and hate you.
I want to disappear into the warmth and mass of your arms, hating you.
I want to curse your name and sing your name a thousand times,
hit those two syllables like I want to hit your jaw, cut my knuckles
on the smile you ever dared to use on me.

I want to bury you in the earth for hurting me, I want to dig you up,
breathe air into your lungs, bring a knife down on your chest,
over and over, replicating the wounds you left me.
I am 1000 miles away and right next you, dead and very alive.
Is it possible to talk with you, now, constantly, and never again?
Can I exist between both of these parallel universes, experience both?

Look at me—never think of me again. Talk to me, let’s never speak again.

SheldUnbreakable

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