i will sit on the train in the window seat and lean my head against the glass and watch the tiny houses slide by and never think of you.
i will speed walk through airports with so much purpose that i will not have enough time to think of you.
i will fly to wherever timezones are such that you and i are never awake at the same time so i will never have to wonder if you are consciously thinking about me.
i will stop eating meat and exercise constantly, shrinking myself down till there is no room for thoughts of you.
i will take showers so often that there will never be traces of you on me for too long.
i will learn not to bite my nails so that there is no part of me i can blame for you not being here anymore.
i will down as many cranberry vodkas as i need to numb myself, as many litres as it takes to pretend i don’t exist.
i will buy all new sheets so i can sleep somewhere you have never touched.
i will shop at a different grocery store, one where i cannot picture you in the aisles.
i will buy a new breakfast cereal.
i will never wear basketball shorts again.
i will not go to that place anymore- the place where we had good days. that place does not exist.
i will kiss as many lips as it takes for them to stop tasting like yours. i will hold strange hands in strange pockets and pretend it feels right. i will study as many wrists as i can, keeping a repertoire till i forget which ones belong to you.
i will never say your name again. i will ignore anyone who happens to share it. i will live in a world without Adams.
i will stop writing about you (soon). i will stop giving you meaning. i will stop giving us meaning.
i will forget your map of freckles.
i will forget if your birthday is the 27th or the 29th.
i will forget your sister’s name.
i will throw my phone down each time my thumbs hover over your name and i will not call.
i will not call, i will not call, i will not call.