You get over him like this:
at first, you don’t. his name is a note you can’t
unsing
but
eventually your body gets bored
of making tears over the same person
who broke you.
your body says “listen up
it was a long time ago” and for a second
you feel whole but
you catch sight of him in a starbucks and your heart drops
and your hands shake and you want to throw up and
you can’t explain to your friends why this messed you up
because you’ve already talked their ears off so you go home
and have a good old-fashioned sob but
somewhere in that night or the next one or two weeks
down the road
the things that came to the surface start getting old and
you start turning over your relationship in your palms
until you discover the ugly things you’ve been hiding
from yourself and you think
maybe it’s wasn’t always heaven maybe
it was hell
and you write about him or cry about him or
get him out of yourself however you can, you
scrape yourself clean until there’s nothing left
and rebuild from the ground up and
some wicked part of you still wants to talk to him
just to say “look, i’m new now,
i’m different,”
but you don’t because you’ve straightened out
the voices in your head
and you write about him and make a stupid poetry blog about
red blood and black ink and you make playlists of songs
you found way after him and you
make yourself okay again eventually because
the truth is, you were whole before you found him
you have just forgotten how to be who you are
without him - don’t worry, my love
all it takes is a little soul-searching
before you rediscover
you are
better off without him.
