Fracture

I want to know
which hearts I’ve broken
and why and how
and the entirety of the context behind that fracture,
not so I can mend it,
but to prevent the next heart
from being my wife’s.

And because
I need to believe
someone was as fucked up on me
as I possibly was fucked up on them,
once,
that I was not unique in the qualia of my heartbreak,
that I was worth loving and writing poetry about
even if it never came to pass,

That I was someone’s disturbance,
once,
long ago,
and that my past self—
that she was worth saving
after all.