and if I must be alone, then I will wear it with pride.
I will drink my orange juice, while fishing out the pulp with
a fork and forget that I ever let myself conform to
your silly desires. I will walk around my apartment
shirtless and stop at every mirror to admire
my love handles and stretch marks,
because I am fucking beautiful and you never told me
this enough. I will throw out all of your mail
and hope the neighbors stop by for extra
eggs or flour, or whatever neighbors want,
just so I can tell them that I am alone now
and laugh when they stumble to find the right words
to comfort me. You were the only one who could comfort me.
Everyone knew this.
and if I must be alone, I will not cry every night
because the bed is significantly colder when you are gone.
I will not keep your large t-shirts just to have your smell
linger on my skin a little bit longer. I will not read your piss-poor excuse
of a goodbye letter anymore and wonder what I did wrong.
What did I do wrong? I will open the windows instead of letting
the sound of your footsteps echo throughout these hallways.
I will not dial your new girlfriend’s number at four in the morning
just so I can hear you pick up the phone and answer with
that groggy voice of yours. I will not remember the first time
you told me you loved me. I will not make that groggy voice
what I hold onto when I must be alone. I will try to fall out of love
with you. I can not make any promises.