I
It happens in degrees. Water level receding, oxygen one lungful at a time. The guilt quieter, rounder at the edges: I go days without thinking of you once—later, weeks.
II
It's peeling oranges and tasting the sweet before the sting, it's looking out the window and watching birds fit back into the sky, one by one.
III
This is me releasing your hand, one finger at a time, until all the warmth has run away, because I'm no longer afraid of the cold.
IV
It happens in degrees. The sun rising in shades of gold, me rising with it.
—PORTRAIT OF A HEARTBREAK IN REVERSE
It happens in degrees. Water level receding, oxygen one lungful at a time. The guilt quieter, rounder at the edges: I go days without thinking of you once—later, weeks.
II
It's peeling oranges and tasting the sweet before the sting, it's looking out the window and watching birds fit back into the sky, one by one.
III
This is me releasing your hand, one finger at a time, until all the warmth has run away, because I'm no longer afraid of the cold.
IV
It happens in degrees. The sun rising in shades of gold, me rising with it.
—PORTRAIT OF A HEARTBREAK IN REVERSE
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