In this new place, there are no memories of him.
His pictures do not cover these walls, his body
does not lurk behind every stop sign, every street corner,
every aisle of the grocery store, just waiting
to make my heart skip a beat again.
I do not think of him when I first wake up
when I look out the window, when I glance at my
new shelf new bed new closet new apartment new life.
No, I don’t imagine him just up the road,
rolling out of bed with that hair all askew
and that sleepy smile across his lips.
I don’t think about the places
where we kissed or the laughter that coated
every crowded hallway, every open room.
He is nonexistent here, only alive in my memory.
And I want to keep him there.
Far from my reach, far from my sight, far enough
that when I close my eyes late at night
I can’t remember the sound of his sleepy breathing,
can’t remember the feeling of his hand
on the small of my back,
can’t remember how it feels to love someone
who doesn’t love you enough
because I’m 2,000 miles away
with only my heartbeat keeping me company
and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.