by CL Bledsoe

Shaking hands. Shaking body. A red licorice panic
twirling up my throat for days each time she calls.

Stay busy. Projects. Work, like a weighted blanket. Date
anyone, but be nice about it. Movies. Shows. Stand

outside friends’ houses until they get home. Don’t
make it weird. Bring dinner. Flowers. Be on.

Be fun. Be everything they want. Be not alone
until it passes. Alcohol is expensive and food sobers, so

not eating is just being fiscally responsible.
When she texts, tell her that you miss her, but not

right away, because she won’t text back. Don’t
tell her that your ship broke against her shore. Tell her

that you’ll try harder to need less. When friends
say you should block her, tell them that you’re fine.

Smile. Tell a joke about mushrooms. Don’t remember
the times she made you feel like no one could ever

want you. So many times. It’s true. She doesn’t. She
never did. This isn’t real life. These things happen

in movies. How could you be so pathetic. Thinking
means realizing each thing she said that wasn’t true.

Each time she blamed you for being hurt. She was never
sober with you. She used you like a crutch and you

were just happy to be there. And you would take
her back. No, you wouldn’t. But you’re not so sure.