Member-only story
The Imagery Of Heartbreak
A poem
“I sleep with memories,
They lie in my hollow bed,
In the space right next to me that you used to fill instead.
I talk to myself,
Because there were things left unsaid.
Every night, I drink wine.
I touch the lips to the bottle until the only thing left are the drops of, ‘Please give me a sign.’
I cry,
Because there’s no other way to express destruction,
Than to drown yourself in your own emotion.
I dream of kissing as many people as I can
Until the ink-stamped imprints of your lips are replaced with another man’s.
I go to museums to remind myself that other things that history too.
And I spend the rest of my time counting sheep and replacing them with the days it’s been since I last saw you.
I play hide and seek with my REM cycle because sometimes I don’t know what is worse:
The pain from the heartbreak or the reality I wake up to, realizing I’m still stuck in the same curse.
I’m not okay, but I remind myself that I was before I fell for the touch of your hand caressing my cheek.
