The Problem With Knowing He Still Lives In This City

the problem with knowing he still lives in this city

is every block is the chance for it come undone,
that I have to wear headphones and sunglasses
in case of emergency, in case of accidental run in,
that every tall body with broad shoulders is a could be,
is a ‘what do I do if this is finally him?’
is the last song he ever sang to you,
is the last text he ever sent.

the problem with knowing he still lives in this city
is that he was not supposed to be here.
wasn’t that the reason for the split?
when life carves two hearts into different paths,
don’t you gently bow out?
don’t you sigh something melodramatic like,
‘in another lifetime, maybe’
and keep going?

but now, he is here
and so am I.
how do I explain that?

in this city, I’m not afraid of the men I do not know,
in this city, I wonder what happens if he sees me
& does not remember how he once loved me,
just looks at me as another face in the crowd.

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✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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