Honey, It's Alright

I woke with a start, the night still dark and the bed empty. Memories returned, not like a rolling wave but like a clap of thunder, and I tumbled out of bed to grasp at straws. Maybe this should be enough, she says but you don't know yet. The heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking, but you are infuriated by the strange whims of the universe. There isn't enough vodka in this household to get you through the storm on my doorstep; perhaps I will not let it in. I forget to eat but not to cry on the subway, that part is effortless. The city swelters in a heatwave, everything is in bloom. You wonder how many times you have to break before you're allowed to live.