This must be what heartbreak feels like.

It’s not immediate, like the movies make it out to be;
it’s a slow process of coming to realize
the hopes and dreams you once had will never come true,
at least, not with the person you thought.

Movies depict young women wallowing,
eating pints of ice cream and crying all of the time.
But then it’s over.

It’s been one and a half months,
and though I have not eaten pints of ice cream,
I have cried. I have mourned the future as I mourn the past.

Slowly, I’m learning more and more ways
I am affected by this shift.
I didn’t know how much of me was reflected in us,
and how much of us was reflected in me.

I almost hate that you are doing fine.
It feels icky to say so, but it’s true.
I don’t want to carry the pain of the lack of us alone,
yet here I am, hunched over with the weight
of what could have been on my back.