Moving On

There are so many tomorrows you haven’t had yet. It’s an end to something you haven’t even had a real chance to start. This is the hardest thing to let go of: the thing you never really had.

I’ve never been a smoker, but it reminds me of his fingers when they touched my face, the way my hair absorbed the ambient nicotine of Brooklyn rooftops and stayed with me for days. It’s a physical conduit to the things I no longer have, but it reminds me that they were real.


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