It's been difficult this past month after your surprising no-show.
We weren't getting along very well before that happened.
I was still happy enough.
I have tried to demonize you
so that my heart and mind can move forward.
I lost track of myself in the sex and absence and alcohol, the ideas
of why you would want to be so close to me
in the first place.
I try to turn my mind and eyes towards others now,
still having no idea why you made the decision you did.
I still wake up in the night and in the mornings.
I breathe to come closer to calm.
My anger is still high.
I understand that you fell out of love with me,
I heard the slow withdrawals of I love yous, pleases and thanks.
Still I shake my head because you could have just told me.
You called at the last minute.
I smoked my first cigarette in twenty years with my mom.
If that makes you feel bad, it should.
You told me you were a nomad.
You were right about yourself.
I miss you and the halfway relationship we had,
you gone and me working.
I remember your saying that you are always the one
who gets broken up with--women leave you—
as if it's always the woman’s fault.
You make it too difficult to stay.
I didn't feel like the girl anymore.
I didn't have a problem with that.
I painted your toenails the last time I saw you.