N.B. for my friend, who is always loved.
it is a blur because
all i really remember are a collection of small but very real things.
just feeling like i was a baby being sucker punched
repeatedly until my bones were baby food.
and i listened to ultraviolence and sad girl
and lay in my bed for a couple weeks with the plates piling up on my desk.
my face seemed physically broken
and my mother said i’d lost weight when she skyped me.
i kept looking at his t-shirt hoping his warm body would appear inside it
i wanted to blink and he’d be right there smiling with a scotch egg in his hand.
sometimes i went clubbing and there’d be a tall redhead
and my knees would buckle and i thought emily would have to carry me out.
there weren’t enough cocktail pitchers in the world
to soak up all the breaking of me
and it took every vessel and every sinew and every bleed
of me to not pick up the phone and kill him.
i don’t expect him to understand because he’s never been here before.
but i’m a proud girl, i’ve got the weight of the oceans in my hands.
fine is a hard emotion to come by,
but then one day when a friend walks by to ask you
“how are you doing?”
you will not sweat under the word. fine is your friend. you will mean it.
the world will turn in again and like me
you’ll be a proud girl with the weight of the oceans in your hands.