• I thought I was going to cry.
    I really wanted to die.
    Crawl in a hole
    and not come out
    until my broken heart mends.

    I’ll survive, though.
    My heart will be fixed.
    I’ll go on and be whole again.
    If he hadn’t told me, I would have found out anyways,
    and might have felt worse and someone might have had to call a hearse.

    My heart feels like a dozen black roses.
    Still loving, but depressed.
    Waiting for the sun to come out and my thirst
    to be quenched.