A broken heart
is nothing new to me
and moving on
is not an alien concept
healing is not a stranger
on the contrary,
we’re long-term bedfellows
and I’ve memorized
its morning-after habits:
you wake up every new dawn
feeling the point of the knife
driven a little less deeply
than you did
the night before
until one day
it just occurs to you
to wonder
what has become of it
and you almost miss it
but you never really do
And I know
that more or less,
the same will happen
with you
this anguish
of unrequited love
but nonetheless true
has no other way
but out:
out of my life
out of my heart
but I hold on to it
in the vain belief
that I need it
the way I need you