prescription for heartache

he drew the sorrow from me as if with a syringe,
plunging deep into my heart and extracting all the wrongs
i felt i’d committed. he secured a cuff around my
small bicep, tightened it, and measured the state of things.
the record stated that though my heartbreak was painful,
it was benign, and i would not require surgical repair.
he prescribed me a hefty dose of self-love, and scribbled
on the pad: you are attractive, you are bright, you are passionate.
and dutifully, i swallowed his words each day, downed
the treatment and gave it time, let the aching subside slowly,
let him arm me with kindness and fervor and grace.

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