Dearest You,

This heartbreak is temporary–
like that hangover from last night’s session,
like that whisky you will have consumed by the time you realize you are incapable of moving by yourself–
and yes, you will wobble your way out of this while you are still drunk
on the memories that will keep replaying,
in your sleep, in your waking hours–
while you are queuing at the grocery store,
while you are taking your coffee,
as you reach for another shot of Patron.

This too shall pass.

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2 thoughts on “Dearest You,

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