they know that i'm good at keeping things in my chest.

leaving is not enough;
you must stay gone.
train your heart like a dog.
change the locks
even on the house he’s never visited.
you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size.
a bathtub full of tea.
a heart the size of Arizona,
but not nearly so arid.
don’t wish away
your cracked past, your crooked toes,
your problems are papier mâché puppets
you made or bought at the market because
the vendor was so compelling you just
had to have them.
you had to have him.
and you did.
and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before he visits,
you take a lover for granted,
you take a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic.
make the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic.
place it on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always
trying to disappear as revenge.
and you are not stupid.
you loved a man
with more hands than a parade of beggars,
and here you stand.
heart like a four-poster bed.
heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.

- Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell, Marty McConnell.