When I Write About All Things Heartbreak

Doug Robichaud
Doug Robichaud

I was 7 when I started
making lists inside my head

random words
plummeting
like raindrops
on a Saturday evening
one two three
and a thousand fell
like needles
but gentler
and softer–
ice cream,
chocolate,
a red dress,
a new doll
and I started
writing things I wanted
and things I had but never wanted
I closed my eyes
listened to the soft pitter patter
like a lullaby
from a mother
Thirteen when I knew how to
sort the things I like from the things I don’t
thirteen when I met a boy with deep brown eyes
and lashes that make you stutter

I spaced out
My hand started writing
Friends
Lovers
Roses
Swift
Songs about love
Love stories
Kiss

My cheeks flushed from the last word
I tore the paper
And hid it
At the bottom
At the farthest corner
Hoping no one would find
fifteen
And the boy with deep brown eyes cried
I stared at him from afar
Clutching a note
With
A handful of “Sorry”

And a bit of
“Thank you for everything we had”
My heart broke a little
When he saw me
And smiled
I stopped making lists
about things
I love
The sound of rain falling–
I never heard it again
Or maybe I did
But it was noise
And never music

Eighteen

Nineteen

You came.

Twenty

You left.

There was no music.
No raindrops
No chocolates
Nothing that would make one stutter
Only a sting on my chest
I suddenly knew what I wanted
And learned how I can’t have.
I slowly wrote
“You”
with closed eyes TC mark

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