This is a poem for the next girl to break my heart.

I will write angry poems about you.

Post them on billboards.

Pray to a God that I don’t believe in.

Dead stars should not shine.

 

I will spew words of contempt at my waiter

Because he has your eyes

And I don’t want to drown in that ocean again.

 

I will pluck the petals from a sunflower

Until I am certain you “love me not”

But no one said that plan was foolproof.

 

I will ask to see you again.

You will say yes because you are too naïve

And your mother never warned you

That cold coffee is still bitter.

 

I will cry entire reservoirs

Filled to the brim with a kind of longing

Such that Aphrodite is jealous.

 

I will understand.

My heart will no longer fixate

On romanticized versions of you.

I still hate being cliché.

 

This poem is for the girl who tries to fix my broken heart.

You are fucked.