Men are all the same

And women don’t know shit about fuck

You can be pretty

Or you can be smart

But you can’t be pretty AND smart

Also, don’t speak too loudly

Simmer down with the emotions

Go make a sandwich

Have a seat

Spread your legs

Do as I say

Shhhhhhh

She binged on unusually bad decisions for awhile

She told herself that

If it hadn’t been her

It would have been

Some other girl

But that wasn’t true

To all the men who’d

Fallen in love with her

There were no other girls

I’d lost my Faith so long ago

I began wondering if I’d ever even had it to begin with

And at the moments I needed someone to blame or to hate, I questioned God

Why couldn’t it have been someone else?

Someone ugly?

Someone forgettable?

Someone replaceable?

Someone else?

Even me!

Why her?

I started thinking death was the only thing I could be certain of

Grief doesn’t ever get easier

Grief doesn’t ever heal

It does however become a part of you

Or to the contrary, a piece of you

That’s lost forever

A dark hole

A bottomless pit

Never to come back from

Never to be filled

Never to heal

Never to get easier

Just. Always. There.

Just. Always. Gone.

Maybe they say “Survived By”

Because that’s what we’re doing

Just surviving

One moment to the next

One breath in

One breath out

Get through the mo(u)rning

Get through the night

Get through one day at a time

But each moment

Each breath

Each morning

Each night

Each day

It also feels like a part of me is dying over and over again

Barely able to breathe, but alive none the less

Maybe I’m surviving

But maybe I’m not surviving her at all

No peace.

No sleep.

It hurts in my chest every time I breathe.

I got dressed in the dark.

I couldn’t even brush my hair.

It doesn’t feel right…

To do anything at all.

He didn’t want me until I got better

But you wanted me even when I was fucked up

Her heart broke a little with each grievous goodbye

And healed a little with every touch of a new soul

Everyone she had loved had broken her a little differently

And everyone who had loved her

Put back the pieces of her heart

Each in their own special way

She was a work of art

A beautiful and unique masterpiece

A kaleidoscope of stained and broken, love and pain

At the end of the day

When the high and the drunkenness wear off

And we return to our lives

To deal with our sorrows

Poetry alone is the one thing

That feels good about what hurts