THE BROKEN HEART

The kind of morning that didn't ca

len asleep in. The messages were still there on her phone, untouched. Her friends

limb carried the weight of the night before. She stood, walked over to the window, and pulled

d, waiting. She poured water into it, measured out coffee grounds by habit, not desire. The

hand, staring at his name still saved

t

pounding. She knew there would

id you

hit

ut sometimes grief makes fool

r broke the silenc

od, unc

wasn't prepared to see