Turn the volume up
blast the stereo
until your ears begin to hum.

Drive
without a map
without an app
to take you back.

Roll the windows down
and smile at the guy on the street
who doesn’t know your name
who doesn’t look like him.

Take a walk down the park
the park that smells like his shirts
and hold your breath
so you don’t have to inhale his ghost.

Fill your glass up
with something bubbly
something happy
that takes away the empty.

Write until
your fingers bleed
until your fingers
beg to let them off the hook.

Drink until
you’re seeing stars
and shining faces
and spin until his
face isn’t what you want to kiss.

Eat too many
chocolate bars
and Ben and Jerrys and
laugh about how predictable you are.
Laugh until your bedroom becomes a sea.

Wake up the next day.
Do it all over again
until it hurts a little less
stings a little less.

Wake up the next day
breathe in your pain
and the hurt
and the empty.

Wake up the next day
and breathe it in
until your lungs
grow accustomed
to the sting.

Until your lungs
grow
accustomed
to his ashes.