I Wonder If I’ll Ever Recover From The Way He Swallowed My Heart

Franca Gimenez
Franca Gimenez

There is a boy in San Francisco
who splintered my bones,
carved all the shallow parts
into something more jagged,
points and things I know others can’t touch.
I became a toothpick
he stuck in the places
he was trying to get
rid of something else.

There is a boy in San Francisco
who flicked apart my flesh
like I was nothing more
than something you pass
on the side of the road.
Never checked to see
if the bleeding stopped,
or if I made it to the hospital,
or if I was ever going to be okay.

I called it Love.
I called my friends
and everyone I knew,
said this was what Love looked like
when it showed up at my door
after years of telling it
to try again later.
Purple hearts are given out
to the bravest souls,
So maybe black and blue were just
pretty colors
and not a reason
to ask if Love
should hurt like this.

if Love should hurt me like this. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

About the author

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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