Anatomy of a Heatbreak

I used to fall asleep in Biology class,
sophomore year.
Hazy discussions about
cells and conch shells and
the way that bodies moved and flexed
and about the skin between your fingers--
did I say yours?
I meant to say mine.
My fingers, without yours to fill in the spaces.

I was always reminded to cross my t's and dot my eyes
windows to the soul swallowing me whole
you don't say much but when you do I
swear that everything reminds me of a
vintage tea called you and I
tainting your lips, chapped and dry
with a bittersweet taste, and you let out a sigh.

Skin and bones, you were more than that
You were the light and I was a blind man
grasping at glass I never new existed
It's getting a little mental how I'm so
sentimental
listing down the anatomy of a heartbreak
as my stomach aches and my hands start to shake

But the thing is,

I used to fall asleep in Biology class,
sophomore year.
Hazy discussions about
cell walls and heartfalls
but they never talked about a heart
falling for someone.

So with shaky hands give me a
chance to bring this down from
my poetry shelf and say that the
anatomy of a heartbreak
can be summed up in Y O U

Why, do remembrances of you
hang around the corners of my room
sometimes I feel like you left too soon.

Oh, I thought you were the only
one
but I'm learning that opportunities
always come.

Before you, I swear, there are a lot of
chances out there
But for now... I am over you.