Between Bruises & Blooms

You broke up with me
while you were out
partying with your uncle.

I remember that
because grief
collects stupid details.

Where he was.

What he was doing.

Who was beside him
while your world
quietly split open.

You were somewhere
with music.

Drinks.

Laughter.

A night still happening
around you.

And I was
on the other side
of a phone
watching a relationship
be reduced
to a few sentences.

Maybe someone
handed you another drink
afterward.

Maybe you put
your phone away.

Maybe the song changed.

Maybe you laughed
ten minutes later.

That part
used to destroy me.

The possibility
that something
which shattered me

barely interrupted
your evening.

I wanted heartbreak
to look equal.

I wanted the universe
to demand
that if I could not breathe,

neither could you.

But love
doesn't leave
fairly.

Sometimes
one person
is sitting in the wreckage

while the other
is ordering
another round.

And years later,
I think that may have been
the cleanest truth
you ever gave me.

I was grieving
the loss
of someone

who could lose me

and keep partying.