This is a poem for the next girl to break my heart.
I will write angry poems about you.
Post them on billboards.
Pray to a God that I don’t believe in.
Dead stars should not shine.
I will spew words of contempt at my waiter
Because he has your eyes
And I don’t want to drown in that ocean again.
I will pluck the petals from a sunflower
Until I am certain you “love me not”
But no one said that plan was foolproof.
I will ask to see you again.
You will say yes because you are too naïve
And your mother never warned you
That cold coffee is still bitter.
I will cry entire reservoirs
Filled to the brim with a kind of longing
Such that Aphrodite is jealous.
I will understand.
My heart will no longer fixate
On romanticized versions of you.
I still hate being cliché.
This poem is for the girl who tries to fix my broken heart.
You are fucked.