Sometimes

Sometimes you don’t know

you’re in love

until after the fact

when she’s gone

and your stomach feels like an anvil;

you can’t eat or sleep or breathe,

you can’t think

because your mind is a dark storm cloud

of half forgotten images

where a broken record plays

one name over and over,

and you wonder if there’s anything

you could have done differently.

You turn away from the world,

wrap yourself in blankets

of self loathing

and scream into the abyss

at God at everyone at her

wondering if anyone will ever listen.

Wondering if anyone even cares

that your world is imploding

in on itself,

that everything you were

is gone.

And the future

just looks like a stark desert

dark and empty

with no end in sight.