How to succeed in heartbreak

How to succeed in heartbreak without really trying:

First, do nothing
Become one with your couch
eating whole stack of Oreos like leaning towers of feelings
Watch Jane Austen adaptation until your eyes become raisins.

Talk to yourself, talk to yourself in the mirror,
on public transportation, in the middle of the fountain at the plaza.
Because, there are things you never got to say
And you don’t have to swallow them.

Kiss as many people as you need to get the stamp of his lips off of your brain
Go to museums; realize other things have history too…
Play hide and go seek with your REM cycles
You’re not sure which is worse to wake up from
The nightmare about your sides splitting open
or the dreams about him holding your jaw like it meant something to him.

You might as well tape your eyelids to your forehead
Because at least you can lie to yourself while you are awake.

Stay up until 3:00, or 3:30, 4:00...
Brew tea with the bags under your eyes.

Write, write until you’ve used every metaphor in your library
You start using the same one over and over
Because there’s only so many ways to describe being destroyed.

But once you get there, that’s just the foundation
Next, gather up all of the chinks in your chain
And fasten them together
Make chain mails, and write that bitch into battle
Take his name, the one that still hurts to say
And use it as a war cry,
then, actually cry,
because there is nothing shameful about clearing your eyes.

Do not pick yourself up.
Do not be okay,
Because heartbreak is not about being okay,
It’s about remembering that you were okay before.
It is about saying fuck okay.
It is about taking all your broken pieces and building yourself a castle
Because I don’t care who you are
You’re a goddamn queen.
It’s about saying, fuck this poem.

No one succeed at heartbreak.

But one day, I’ll cry myself a fountain of youth
Let’s go back to beginning.

I’m tired of self-help tips and friendly pick me ups
I drink a bottle, and bottles and bottles,
pretending their mouths belong to someone else,
But I’m done feeling sorry for myself.

Because why apologize for loving until you burst?
My capacity to feel needs no pardon.
My heart needs no mending.
I’m not broken
I’m just a little more,
explosive.