Chicken Tenders & Heartbreak

I'm sitting at Starbucks,

it's 9:45 AM, & I've chosen a Cobalt Green pen because

it reminds me of the straw in my caramel macchiato.

None of that really matters,

but I subconsciously think

that if I focus hard enough on something else, I won't

have to deal with the pain in the center of my chest.

How dramatic is that?

"The pain in the center of my chest?" I'm laughing

at myself out loud & the

people tables down stare in

confusion.

Maybe they're just not into talking to themselves.

I don't really care because

I think I'm hilarious. So,

I'll always laugh.

I keep writing sentences

that really don't matter

& it's 110% because I'm distracting myself from what's bothering me.

I'm human & I hate that I have feelings.

Because I swear I feel more than I'm supposed to at any given point

in time.

I don't really know

what I'm hoping to get out of this.

Maybe it's just that

I'm trying to lessen

the weight in my chest.

Maybe I think if I

get lost in my words. I'll forget I'm even sad. Maybe I think time will move faster, my heart will mend quicker, if I focus long enough on something other than the memories on loop about you.

See, what most people don't say

is that I'll lose a piece of me

whenever I'm not with just me.

They tell me about all the happy

things I'll experience & feel...

about the laughs that'll start

in my tummy & end in

wiping my eyes dry.

About the fingers interlocked with mine,

the teasing turned to kisses

the high of feeling supported & more importantly...

loved.

But they never tell me about

the after

if things don't continue as the before.

About the hollowness that takes the form

of consumption

the snatching of air from my lungs

about the losing of me.

So, I write because I pray that I'll find clarity

somewhere between the lines of an empty page.

Clarity that forces the confusion to evaporate

& my heart to believe again.

It's hard & unlike milk,

there's no expiration date on feelings.

How annoying.

Maybe it'll take another day or two.

or five to six months

or who knows how long

to feel all of the way better.

I'm not entirely sure.

But, it's 10:14 AM,

& I'm sitting at

Starbucks. laughing

at myself while people

stare.

May your day be ever filled with love, light, and of course, an abundance of chicken tenders💜🌻✨

Cheyenne Pajardo