as they break and shatter and pour out of a cavity in my chest
she hurts too, for there's nothing she can do but watch me with my grief
when i turned thirty, i prided myself for having figured out a way to protect myself
i convinced myself out of what little desire for romance i felt
just so no one could hurt me the way i had seen other been hurt
but here's what they don't tell you about heartbreak: it's not always the boyfriends
or partners or spouses. sometimes, it's the ones with those more believable promises
of forever, with that warm and safe embrace of friendship
and heartbreak at the hands of a friend? i don't quite yet know what to
do with this grief
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