a heartbreaker’s guide to love
my mother always told me
to be the storm beneath the seas-
spinning and swirling too quick
for any man to see.
but my mother never warned me
about how big the ocean is,
and how every approaching wave
feels like something to cower away from;
how every outstretched hand looks like a fist ready to tear every single
bolt of lighting from my eyes.
my mother always told me to be a house made of stone,
with windows and doors locked so tightly
that no one could ever get inside.
if they stay outside they can’t hurt you.
if they can't see inside they might stay.
but if they can't see inside, mom,
how do I know when to open the door?
how do I know when to draw back the curtains?
mom, why didn't you warn me about the boys that break windows?
why didn't you warn me they would cut themselves on the glass?
you never said I would feel the pain in my palms too, mom.
stone houses are supposed to be safe.
nobody was supposed to break in.
this isn't how trust is supposed to work.
my mother always told me to be a heartbreaker;
to keep everyone at a distance
so I can see them better;
to leave before they leave you.
you have to pull every blade of grass from their heads before they pour gasoline
on your gardens.
you can’t give them the satisfaction of holding control,
so keep them at bay.
keep building your walls.
strengthen your tides.
the ocean isn't that cold at night, anyway.
maybe if I keep my head below the surface I can't hear the sounds of them drowning in my hands.
maybe if I tread water I can stay afloat long enough to not flinch at every broken sail.
maybe if the curtains stay shut I can pretend I'm not just an empty room;
like I'm not filled with empty rooms.
maybe I can pretend I house more than spare furniture and dusty bookshelves.
maybe if my heart strings weren’t a mangled mess of thread,
I wouldn’t feel them pull
with every person I push away.
my mother tells me that I am beautiful.
I smile,
I thank her,
and trace the scar between my ribs where a soul used to be.
isn't it funny
how the ones who tear others apart
can barely hold themselves together?
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