When Someone Breaks Up With You, Their

The Truth Feels Different From Other Things. The Closest You Can Come To Describing It Is That It Feels Like Taking A Perfect Breath.

Deep Breaths. I Am Taking Deep Breaths. Composure. Which, For Me, Means Composing... Maybe This Is My Way Of Creating The Illusion Of Control Over Something I Have No Control Over. Like, If It's Just A Story I'm Telling Or A Song I'm Singing, Then I'll Be Okay Because I'm The Guy Who's Providing The Words.

This Is What I Never Allowed Myself To Need. And Of Course What I've Been Needing All Along.

The Way You're Singing In Your Sleep The Way You Look Before You Leap The Strange Illusions That You Keep You Don't Know But I'm Noticing The Way Your Touch Turns Into Arcs The Way You Slide Into The Dark The Beating Of My Open Heart You Don't Know But I'm Noticing

The First Sentence Of The Truth Is Always The Hardest. Each Of Us Had A First Sentence, And Most Of Us Found The Strength To Say It Out Loud To Someone Who Deserved To Hear It. What We Hoped, And What We Found, Was That The Second Sentence Of The Truth Is Always Easier Than The First, And The Third Sentence Is Even Easier Than That. Suddenly You Are Speaking The Truth In Paragraphs, In Pages. The Fear, The Nervousness, Is Still There, But It Is Joined By A New Confidence. All Along, You've Used The First Sentence As A Lock. But Now You Find That It's The Key.