One day,
too many years from now to count,
your daughter will experience
a heartbreak like mine.

The next town over
will hear her heart crack
as he explains he is no longer in love with her.

You will hold her curly, red hair
as she vomits
from the souring imprint he left on her soul.

You will dry her tears
with an old t-shirt, stained with watermarks
familiar to my eyes.

You will hold her tighter
as she whispers between breaths
“why doesn’t he love me too?”

One day,
too many years from now to count,
you will not only grow to hate the boy,
but yourself, too.