In the aftermath of heartbreak,
when you’re barely walking
through rubble that
stays longer than you’d think,
but watering the wreckage
with every one of your own tears
doesn’t put anything where
or how or the way it was,
not even a little bit, in fact,
every day it looks less
like you remember,
or do the memories look less
like what it was? Yes
and it’s strange the things
you want to get rid of immediately,
and the things you will not, ever.
I washed the bedspread right away
so it would smell brand new,
but the torn curtains I keep,
all the hundreds of tiny holes.
melissa suarez
melissa 