forever in love with this poster

They say that if a writer falls in love with you, you’ll never die.
But no one talks about what happens when you break a writer’s heart.

How this gift of immortality becomes their curse.
How they keep you alive in their poetry even while it kills them.
How they recreate the crime scene on paper.
Words spread out like map coordinates
Looking for where things went wrong.
Writing down the word ‘forever’ and
Wondering how those three syllables sounded like an eternity when you said it.

Every poem they write is a sketch of your face; as if their pen only knows how to make posters of the people they miss; each full stop a reminder of your freckles; each semicolon an image of your sideways smile and the dimple under your cheek.

Every poem is just ‘I still love you’ written in code.

Every poem is a letter unsent; because if hearts were mailboxes you wouldn’t have one.

Every poem is an attempt to soothe the ache in their left chest; to let inked words bleed instead; to shrink the memories into sentences.

Every poem is the Heimlich maneuver; so they write until the words locked in their throats fly out like freed birds and bruised lungs can finally taste oxygen again.

Every poem is a paper boat called acceptance.

Every poem including this one.

—  When you break a writer’s heart by Ceres // @mentamorphisis

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
We throw around the word never likes its nothing but a small rose petal. The word never is a doubled edged sword. On one side it says ‘I will never leave you’ and on the other it says ‘I will never love you.’
—  The Word Never
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.