I woke up one day, lost and afraid and desperate. He had left me desolate. There was no turning from this pain only ripping of dry blood again and again with every thought of his touch in every memory that clutched so longingly to songs and poems and clouds and it’s hard to make tea just for me now. You see, he started as a thought, an idea, a wish shouted out into the vastness. an answered prayer. And time stopped every time he was near and now it’s as if all of those missed minutes and hours and days came speeding up and smashed right into my face the sadness I neglected and the joy I overspent and the tears I selfishly held on to because I was too busy playing around with the different ways in which I could turn my smile right side down. I am a wreckage of mass proportions. And that’s okay. I need not explain when they complain that he’s not worth it. My tears, my anger, my solitude. He was worth every piece of me then, nothing has changed. I will give him my wrath as freely as I did my body, with trust that he will know what to do with it. I will hand him my tears in cups made from hands he promised would always be my harness. He can take my pride and my dignity and I will show him that being the lady-part of human does not always mean composure nor does it mean grace or turning away my face from his nonchalant cavalier attack on my heart. I loved him with every fragile bit of my being and the evidence was seen in the shattered porcelain on the floor and the key tracks in the door and the briefest second in which I calculated the trunk size of my car or the stamina with which I could carry his heavy heart over my shoulder with its leg attached to a boulder. I will take this brief second to break, for the longer I wait the smaller the frame will become leaving me with no words to shout, no dishes to break, only wishes I had taken this courage of mine to speak my mind and bare my insides. They were full of you but I am rid of you and wish everything of the best with you.
I woke up one day, found and okay.
— Richard Brautigan, “All Girls Should Have a Poem” (via thatkindofwoman)